The Flawless Caper
by chromeknickers
Summary: In retrospect, he probably shouldn't have taken the case... But when a pretty dame offers Theodore Nott the unsolvable case of the century, he takes it. What happens when the danger begins to outweigh the thrill of the hunt? Is the price worth being paid?
1. The Dame

**The Flawless Caper**

**01 – The Dame**

In retrospect, he probably shouldn't have taken the case, but he had always been a sucker for redheads . . . and blondes and brunettes. Any beautiful woman, really. A damsel in distress was like a siren's call to Theodore Nott; he just couldn't resist steering towards peril.

The case began like any other: he in his office, resting his feet on his desk with a book in hand. It didn't matter what subject – philosophy, religion, history, biology – for he would spend hours thumbing through old parchment. Akin to his chosen vocation, Nott enjoyed researching and formulating his own hypotheses and theories on topics that would either astound or bore the average wizard. He also rather enjoyed the thrill of the hunt, to set about solving intricate and seemingly unsolvable puzzles. It seemed almost natural that he would become a private detective – to use the people and places around him as his own personal chessboard, with pieces.

"Theo?" came a feminine voice, which had been preceded by three successive knocks.

Nott lowered his book and glanced up at his secretary, Tracey Davis. He'd never call her his secretary, not to her face, or within earshot (or as he liked to phrase it, 'hexing shot'). She'd likely knock him flat on his back. Tracey, in fact, was a graduate student working on her magical history degree whilst moonlighting as Nott's 'personal assistant'. She was also a former classmate and ex-girlfriend; it couldn't get more personal than that. While Tracey was known for her no-nonsense attitude, she was also quite clever and drôle, and a very dear friend of his. Nott couldn't think of a more fitting person – nor more fitting to his person – to work with than she.

"Yes, Tracey?" he asked, lifting a cigarette to his lips to spend its last drag.

"There's a woman here to see you," she announced with a half-grin set on a rather angular face, her ice blue eyes hiding the mirth playing on her lips. "Her name is Burke – Matilda Burke's niece, I believe."

"A client?" Nott asked almost dubiously, before extinguishing the dying fag in the ash tray beside his feet.

Tracey made a non-committal sound at the back of her throat and shrugged, leaning her shoulder into the door frame. "I dunno. I'd guess so. Unless she has come to ask you to be her date at her début, or perhaps the next cotillion." Tracey fluttered her lashes in a facetiously coquettish manner. "Whatever she is here for, you ought to have a look-see."

Nott raised a questioning eyebrow.

"She is quite the looker," Tracey whispered loudly, as if in answer to Nott's eyebrow language. She then turned her head back and glanced out towards the outer office, where Nott assumed the 'looker' Miss Burke was waiting.

"Yes, yes," Nott said dismissively, opening the top drawer to his desk and stashing his novel inside. "Show her in, then."

At Nott's response, Tracey gave him a rather pointed look before pushing herself off the frame. "Right away, Mister Nott," she said in an oddly subservient tone, adding a slight curtsey for effect. She then screwed her face back to its original manner and waved her hand at him. "Oh, you are going to have to lock up tonight: I have a late class."

Tracey then turned around and disappeared down the hallway to the outer office, presumably permitting Miss Burke entrance to Nott's office. He could hear a quiet, 'thank you', murmured from outside and the soft click of heels approaching his door. The client took a tentative step inside and then another, advancing slowly as her soft brown eyes darted from side to side, taking in the lay of the room.

Her movements were willowy, her form tall and lean, with a short, trim waist and long legs that seemed to go on forever. High-breasted and supple, she wore subtle curves, feminine and youthful, with soft hips and rounded bottom. On her lithesome frame she wore a conservative yet flattering green silk frock – a colour chosen, he assumed, to complement her fair complexion and vibrant red hair. The fluid folds hugged her body lithely and draped like falling water to her knees, revealing toned calves stretching down to small, pointed feet dressed in matching green silk.

The top half of her hair was drawn up into an intricately woven plait with jade pins artfully placed within. The rest of her hair fell down her back and shoulders in thick waves of dark auburn. The style had the effect of smoothing back the lines of her face and making her appear even more youthful and alert, drawing attention to her lovely oval-shaped face. Her eyes, the colour of dark honey, were wide like almonds, with thick black lashes that leant an exotic touch. But what truly drew Nott's attention was her rosebud mouth: lips full and pink, glossy and perfect, shaped in a soft O. Everything about her was delicate and innocent and somehow too fragile for this world. Or for his world, perhaps.

Rising to his feet, Nott bowed formally and gestured with a large hand to the leather chair in front of his desk. She glanced up at his exceedingly tall stature and blushed slightly, murmuring a polite, 'thank you', before taking the seat. Adjusting his tie inside his pristinely pressed charcoal jacket, Nott offered her a thin but polite smile before sinking back down into the plush leather.

As they stared at each other, his cigarette smouldered in a brass tray; its filigree curls of smoke filled his nostrils, tempting him to light another. He was a chain smoker, as was made evident by the dusty ash that dotted the top of his oak desk, and messy too. Papers were haphazardly strewn across the large green blotter and there were dried ink stains on a stack of parchment that was weighed down by a half-empty ink pot and a half-dozen quills. A sudden wind wafted in through the open window behind him, fluttering the dusty white lace curtains; the ashes on his desk began to twitch and dance, like dry leaves caught in an autumn breeze.

Reaching inside his breast pocket, Nott retrieved a small, ornately designed silver case and lifted its lid with adroit fingers, long and calloused. He leaned forward and offered the pretty dame a cigarette, which she politely declined with a wave of her delicately manicured hand. Smiling, he sat back in his seat and brought a fresh fag to his dry lips, slipping the closed case back inside his pocket. With the cigarette jutted between his teeth, he quickly lit it without preamble and let his eyes narrow to her lips as he inhaled.

The redhead sat regally in front of him, coyly tossing an errant strand of thick hair behind her shoulder – an act that seemed far more inappropriate than it ought to have been. But as the silence between them grew heavy and pregnant, her haughty demeanour began to falter somewhat and her eyes became uneasy. She sat on the edge of her seat, nervously tapping a heeled foot on the tiled floor.

Leaning back in his chair, Nott took another drag and exhaled, observing the redhead's fidgety movements with keen green eyes. "What can I do for you, Miss Burke?"

She seemed startled by his voice at first, as her breath caught behind her teeth and her eyes slightly widened. Perhaps his voice was deeper than she had expected, richer somehow – or maybe she hadn't anticipated a conversation. The dark cadence in his tone seemed to have had a calming effect on her, for she let out a quivering exhale and settled back in her seat a little more comfortably.

"I was wondering," she began anxiously, bringing her fingers to her thick, auburn hair. "That is, I'd like to employ—" She stopped, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, and looked up at him with pleading brown eyes.

He smiled at her reassuringly. "How about you start from the beginning, Miss Burke," he suggested in a soothing tone, placating her as he rested his forearm on the arm of his chair. "Start from the beginning and then we'll see how I can assist you."

Pleased at this suggestion, she nodded once and offered him a feeble smile before gathering her wits. "My great aunt Matilda – Matilda Burke – is the owner of the famous Cordalis Diamonds. I'm sure you've heard of them." She looked up expectantly at Nott, who merely nodded in acquiescence, encouraging her to continue. "Well . . ." She paused, worrying her bottom lip again. "I'm afraid that they've gone missing. _Stolen_."

The last word was whispered, as though if it were not spoken aloud then it would not have to be true. And although the niece, Miss Burke, was undoubtedly distraught, Nott was admittedly intrigued. The Cordalis Diamonds were legendary and had been in the Burke family for generations, tracing all the way back to the long-extinct and noble pure-blood family of Cordalis. The rare and flawless diamonds themselves were imbued with powerful magic and crafted into a stunning necklace wrought with precious Goblin silver. It was as priceless as Rowena's Diadem or Godric's Sword, and just as ancient – if not more so.

"And your aunt wishes to employ my services, to find out who stole them and where they are?" Nott asked casually, flicking the ashes of his cigarette into the brass tray.

She nodded solemnly, crossing her long legs in one fluid and distracting motion. "My aunt would like to keep the whole sordid affair low profile, for the sake of appearances. She'd like to see the diamonds discreetly returned before anyone in society discovers that they have gone missing."

"Wouldn't want the tabloids getting wind of the theft," Nott added agreeably, bringing the fag to his lips for one last drag before he put it out. "It would reflect poorly on your aunt's security and most trusted associates."

The redhead glanced down at her lap rather gravely and then opened the clasp to her purse, pulling out a small, silver skeleton key. She extended it in her slender fingers to Nott, who crushed out his cigarette and leaned forward.

"Here is a Portkey to my aunt's manor," she said, taking in a trembling breath as her fingertips briefly touched his. "She will be expecting you after tea, seven o'clock sharp – to discuss whether or not you will accept the case."

Nott heard the tink sound of the Portkey hitting his cigarette case as he pocketed it. He offered the young woman a polite smile, and she gracefully retrieved her gloves from her purse and slipped them on before rising to her feet. Nott rose from his seat as well, giving Miss Burke another polite bow before escorting her out of his office into the waiting room outside.

"I will see you and your aunt at seven then – on the dot – Miss Burke," he said charmingly, holding the door open for her to leave.

"Please," she began somewhat shyly, turning her face up at him with a soft pink hue settling on her cheeks, "it is Elizabeth—_Lizzy_."

"Enchant_é_," he murmured in a deep, sensuous voice, taking her gloved hand in his before bowing lowly to plant a chaste kiss on the pristine white fabric. "Theodore Nott, at your service."

Blushing an even deeper shade of pink, the young Lizzy Burke took a few steps out of Nott's office and waved bashfully before Apparating away. Once Nott closed the door and turned around, Tracey Davis's mirthful blue eyes were already trained on him.

"_Enchant____é_," she mimicked, making kissing noises as she pecked at her own hand. "I, Theodore 'Desperate For A Shag' Nott, am eternally at your service."

Greatly vexed, Nott picked one of the magazines up off the centre table and threw it at Tracey's head. Nimbly dodging the limp projectile, Tracey caught the magazine and laughed when she saw Nott glower.

"Don't you have some work to do? Papers to file, invoices to be written up and mailed?" he muttered miserably, before turning down the hallway to his office.

Tracey hadn't bothered with back one of her smart arse retorts. Instead, she giggled loudly at her desk, knowing that she had won this round of wits – if it could be called that. He'd get her back, eventually. In the meantime, he'd damn that dame Lizzy Burke for twisting him up in such a manner that he had made a right fool out of himself for all to see. He was obviously more taken with the girl than he had thought if he could so easily betray his cool exterior.

Patting his breast pocket, Nott had to grin at all. His charming speech coupled with his casual demeanour had earned himself the right to call the lovely dame by her first name. It had also won him a few blushes and lip chewing, too. Yes, it might not have been so terrible for him to have made a fool out of himself if he could see those lips again, smiling for him. Nott's grin turned wolfish at the thought of those luscious lips, and he pulled out his case of cigarettes.

No, not bad at all.

**-x-**

* * *

**Author's notes:** This story was written for The Great Hall's Mysterious May Challenge. See the prompt below.

**Prompt #3 – The Private Detective.** The Cordalis Diamonds are famous for their rarity, beauty, and (as a logical consequence) their value. They have been in the possession of one family for generations – until someone stole them very recently. You have been hired to retrieve them, and although it may not be your usual style of case, the money is excellent. In return for that, your client expects the highest level of discreetness and, of course, your success in finding the diamonds. The only clues you have at first are an oddly distraught niece, a very superstitious (and inquisitive) servant, and a picture that is not in the right place.

You may NOT set this story at Hogwarts, but any other place is fine. The diamonds might be worked into a piece of jewellery, or resting loosely in a bag – whatever you wish. You're also free to choose who hired the detective, and for what motives they did so. The crime needs to be cleared up in the end! Whether the detective is successful, someone else is, or it happens by coincidence doesn't matter – as long as it fits with your story.


	2. Diamonds Are Forever

**The Flawless Caper**

**02 – Diamonds Are Forever**

The evening came swiftly, black with shadows rising up from the fireplace and lapping against the walls. Dark, shadowy waves rose higher and higher as the room took on motion; until Nott felt himself sinking downward into the cold depths of a bottomless black ocean. Pain seized him tightly with its merciless hands, sending his mind reeling in shock. His back and shoulder ached with the ghost of old wounds – wounds that threatened to never leave him, to never let him rest.

With grim determination, he set his jaw straight and gathered his wits about him. Unclenching his hands, which he hadn't even noticed were curled into tight fists, Nott instinctively stretched his fingers towards the top right drawer of his desk and opened it. Inside was his temporary salvation in a bottle; damnation too, he supposed – depending how one looked at it. The phial and syringe sat side by side, like brother and sister, waiting for him to put out the fires ravaging his muscles. Checking for a vein, Nott winced as he pressed the hair-thin needle to the inside of his elbow, feeling it slip under his skin like water. He barely noticed the pin prick anymore; the way it used to tear a hole into his flesh and set his skin on fire. Pain had become a distant memory as the serum washed through his blood like ice and glass and acid, trying to destroy what was left of him as it numbed his body.

He slumped down in his chair and let out a shuddering sigh of satisfaction, removing the needle and dropping it into the bin beside his feet. As he sat in the dark silence of his office with his wrists upturned, Nott blinked back the drug-induced haze that threatened to envelop his senses. Clearing his throat, he sat up in his seat and pushed his thick, dark hair out of his face. His hands fumbled for his cigarette case, and the silver key the dame had given him earlier that afternoon tumbled out of his breast pocket and dropped onto the floor. Bending down, he picked it up and set it on the desk before taking out a match and lighting a cigarette. He took in a long, steady drag to calm his nerves, letting the black smoke pool inside his lungs.

A minute passed by, and then another. He could hear the grandfather clock ticking away in the background, like a pulse beating at the back of his eyes. Suddenly, the bell tolled seven, and he picked the Portkey off the desk and held it tightly in his palm. Once activated, the Portkey began to hum, and Nott felt the familiar sensation of a hook being jerked from behind his navel. The floor disappeared from beneath his feet, and he flew forward through a whirlwind of colour and sound until he finally reached his destination. Landing gently on his feet, he dusted the cigarette ash from his jacket and took another drag as he looked up at the imposing iron-wrought gate that guarded Burke Manor. He tapped on it once with his wand, which he had stealthily withdrawn from an invisible holster on his hip, and the heavy doors creaked and groaned open, allowing him entrance.

He made his way up the drive slowly, observing the many wards and security features that were placed on the grounds and outward architecture of the manor. The air seemed to buzz with magic – like a static charge of electricity – that discouraged him from venturing off the beaten path. Once he made it up the set of granite stairs to the imposingly high oak doors, Nott brought his wand to the brass knocker that was in the shape of a fox and tapped it lightly. After a moment, the large, thick doors opened silently, almost too silently, and a tiny, somewhat young house-elf stood patiently in the threshold, looking up at the private detective with wide, inquisitive eyes.

"Master Nott," the elf addressed him properly, before waving its hand to usher the detective inside. "Mistress will greet you shortly."

Nott was surprised to hear such a deep, aged voice coming from an elf of its size and youthful appearance – as though one could truly tell how old a house-elf looked. This mundane observance was likely of no consequence since Nott often had a hard time figuring out what gender the dour-looking creatures were let alone what age. However, the detective would note the variance regardless, for he was the kind of man who seldom switched off his mind. Outwardly, he appeared calm and controlled, stoic even. But on the inside, he was busy, busy, busy – never allowing himself a moment's peace.

"Kip will have to ask you to extinguish your smoking stick, Master Nott." The elf pointed to the fag dangling precariously from Nott's lips. "Mistress abhors the smoke."

With a half-smirk, Nott withdrew the lit cigarette from his lips and extinguished it in his palm with a searing hiss, brutally marking the flesh without a wince, before dropping it to the ground. Wrinkling its nose in disgust, the house-elf snapped its long, greyish fingers and the discarded butt vanished without a trace of ash. Laughing soundlessly, Nott stepped inside and followed the fastidious little elf into the parlour. As the doors closed quietly behind them, the house-elf led him to a gold and azure divan where he was told to wait until properly greeted by the mistress of the manor. The elf named Kip then bowed formerly before disappearing with a loud crack.

"Little runt," Nott said, chuckling to himself, before pulling out a small silver flask from inside his jacket. "I wonder if Mistress abhors the whisky, too." He unscrewed the top along his palm and raised the flask to his lips, tipping his head back as he drank. He felt the cool liquid burn down his throat and was sated in his addictions, at least for now. He'd crave a fag in another five minutes or so.

"Good evening, Mr Nott," came an elderly, refined voice.

Turning, Nott beheld Matilda Burke standing regally underneath the archway. She was a woman of short stature with Roman features, including an aquiline nose and narrow blue eyes. Her hair was snow-white and done on top of her head in a soft and stylish manner. The white of her hair struck a great contrast against the rich maroon colour of her gown, and her gloved hands were gracefully folded together in front of her body as she waited for him to properly acknowledge her.

"Madam Burke," Nott greeted with a wide smile and glistening white teeth. "A pleasure."

Once on his feet, Nott surreptitiously pocketed the flask and gave the socialite a formal bow. Smiling thinly, but politely, Matilda Burke extended her gloved hand for Nott to take. As he gently kissed the soft fabric, Nott had to admit to himself that despite the hard edge of her face, the older woman carried her figure and her age quite well. He wondered if Lizzy would take after her.

"Please," she said, dropping her hand, "follow me to the museum."

Nott swept his arm outward, indicating that she should lead, and Matilda wrinkled her nose, much like how her house-elf had earlier. Very few wizarding families were wealthy enough to have their own private library, let alone a private museum. Undoubtedly, she was expecting a reaction from him, but she would be disappointed. Nott, besides coming from wealth himself, was quite skilled at controlling his thoughts and masking his emotions. His face was unreadable, like his mind.

Putting aside her displeasure at the detective's reaction (or lack thereof), Matilda led Nott westward down a maze of hallways. As they walked, Nott noted the numerous paintings on the walls and the intricate designs – most likely family crests and coat of arms – engraved in the architecture. And although the hallways were narrow, the ceilings were high and vaulted, with adorning stained glass windows. It seemed as though the manor itself was a museum, a tribute to the decadence of wealth.

When they finally made it to the end of the hallway, Matilda used her wand to open the door to an incredibly spacious room, brightly lit with golden lamps and censers. The wooden floor was made of mountain ash, with rich Persian carpets centred underneath the various showcases encased in glass. Most of the walls were laid bare, except for a few paintings and a Flemish tapestry that hung on the eastern wall. Each casing still held its treasures, save the one on the pedestal on the raised platform in the centre of the room. A spotlight hung overhead, illuminating the empty case where the Cordalis Diamonds once rested. The south-west side of the room was lined with ceiling high windows that looked out on an expansive garden. The wide glass doors that led out onto the cobblestone path were locked, and beside them was a cosy lounging area with chairs and a table – a perfect place to take your tea and paper in the morning. Sitting on the chairs were Lizzy, the lovely red-haired dame he'd met earlier that afternoon, and a shorter, older woman, around fifteen to twenty years Lizzy's senior. The woman slightly resembled Matilda; however, she looked more frumpy and plain, with long, straight brown hair fastened in a braid. Next to Lizzy, she looked rather homely.

"Theodore," Lizzy said with reverence, as she rose to her feet to greet the detective. "It's so lovely to see you again." But before she could take another step forward, she was interrupted by her aunt.

"Elizabeth!" Matilda said sharply, turning her back to Nott and walking over to her niece. "I trust that you are not familiar with the _detective_." The last sentence was whispered in Lizzy's ear, but not so quietly that Nott couldn't hear.

"Aunt Tilda," Lizzy hissed in a whisper, "Mr_ Nott _comes from a highly respectable pure-blood family."

Matilda's marble face seemed to soften at this revelation; however, her lips were still drawn too tightly to transform the rest of her features. But she relented and turned, offering Nott a polite smile that didn't quite reach her hawk-like eyes.

"Please, Mr Nott, have a seat." She motioned to the chairs at the table where an ancient and undoubtedly expensive tea set sat.

Nott complied with a charming smile and sat down. The rest of the women followed suit: Lizzy sat beside him while Mary and Matilda sat across.

"You've already met my youngest niece, Elizabeth," Matilda mentioned conversationally, while pouring the tea. "She's my youngest brother's daughter from his _second_ marriage." She said the last two words as though they were something bitter on her tongue that she'd like to scrape off. Setting down the teapot, she gestured grandly to the plain girl beside her. "I'd like to formally introduce you to Elizabeth's older sister, Mary."

Nott inclined his head politely. "Good evening, Miss."

Mary stared at Nott blankly, neither abashed nor disgruntled by his presence. She merely looked bored and seemed somewhat socially awkward.

"Mary, do say hello," Matilda prodded, her tone not nearly as chastising as it had been while addressing Lizzy and her lack of formality.

Mary shifted uncomfortably in her seat for a moment before doing her best impersonation of a parrot. "Hello."

Nott smiled thinly, showing no teeth, and brought his tea cup to his lips to take a tentative sip. There was an awkward silence that persisted, and all that could be heard was the sipping of tea and the hoot of an owl outside. Nott took this opportunity to appraise the women and his surroundings, of which the latter, in its layout, was rather simple in its ornateness. There were two exits: one, which led back to the entrance hallway; and the other, which led to the west gardens. The cathedral ceilings were wooden and showed no trap doors, nor did the walls upon first glance. The museum itself was located at the farthest point in the west wing of the manor, and there were no other rooms situated behind it, only a hallway adjacent.

The women themselves appeared calm. Lizzy shyly sipped at her tea beside him, stealing furtive glances when her aunt's head was down. Aunt Matilda's face was still made of marble, and she was almost as skilled at masking her emotions as Nott was. Her eyes, though, somewhat belied her agitation, which Nott assumed was over her frustration at having something stolen from her keeping. She was a controlled woman and this situation that she was now placed in was anything but. Still, she tried her best to keep up appearances and did a rather admirable job at it. Mary, on the other hand, was the easiest person to read; she looked utterly bored with the entire affair.

"Shall we get started, then?" Nott asked, breaching the silence as he set down his cup and saucer.

He had said the words in a professional manner, void of impatience, but anyone who truly knew him would see right through the veneer. Nott was never one for tea talk or trivial talk, or any sort of small talk for that matter. Unless the three women in front of him wanted to begin discussing philosophy or psychology, there was little he would be able to contribute to the conversation – especially if the subject were about shoes or babies. When he came to work, Theodore Nott _worked_, and he didn't stop until the job was done.

"By accepting the Portkey from my niece, you have entered my employment," Matilda replied in answer, reminding him of what he already knew. "I must remind you, however, that should you decide against taking this case"—she cleared her throat ceremoniously—"our confidentiality clause will be activated."

In other words, she would perform a Memory Charm on him so that he would forget their transactions, including his knowledge of the diamonds being stolen.

"Whatever you choose, you will still be compensated for your time. In the meanwhile, you are free to search the museum," she offered, as though it were a grand and magnanimous gesture on her part.

"Thank you, Madam, but I was wondering if I could ask a few questions before I begin my detailed search of the crime scene.

Matilda nodded politely enough, but the wince on her face was evident when he mentioned the word crime. While understanding the desire for tact, Nott wasn't the type to forgo proper sleuthing in order to hold hands and avoid bruising egos. One could only be stringently diplomatic for so long. Work needed to be done, and that involved more sense than sensibility.

Opening the buttons to his jacket, Nott reached inside and took out a small notepad and quill. "Tell me, when did you discover that the diamonds had gone missing?"

"This morning when I woke up," Matilda answered promptly, bringing her tea cup to her lips. "I came down for breakfast and noticed that they were no longer in their case."

"Did you have any wards placed on the diamonds – or any security surrounding them?"

Swallowing, Matilda set the cup down on the saucer. "I had wards placed on the case and throughout the entire manor. The diamonds themselves have a cursed placed on them – should someone outside the Burke blond-line abscond with them."

Nott raised an eyebrow at this revelation, stopping his quill on the paper. "Is it possible to find out what these wards were, as well as the curse?"

Matilda withdrew her wand from the waist of her frock, and, with a delicate slash through the air, summoned a small card with gold printing.

"These are the private Curse-Breakers I hired," she said, handing him the card. "You may speak with them directly."

Taking the proffered card, Nott muttered a thank you before reading the inscription:

_Highland Security: We have the solution to your problems._

Nott had heard of these men before. They were retired Curse-Breakers and former Treasure Hunters. Most of them once worked for Gringotts, and some of them might still, doing private work on the side. Why not when you could make a lot of gold cursing rich socialites' jewellery?

"Have the diamonds always been here?" Nott asked, licking his thumb before turning the page.

Matilda shook her head. "No, I had them transferred here from my vault at Gringotts."

"Transferred?" His quill paused on the paper again, his curiosity genuinely piqued. "When?"

"Several years ago," she answered curtly, before taking a slow sip of her tea. "I had Kip Apparate them to the manor and brought in those men – expert Curse-Breakers – to set up the security here."

Nott scribbled down a few notes and then slipped the card into his breast pocket. "May I ask why you removed the diamonds from Gringotts?"

Matilda made an annoyed clucking noise with her tongue. "The bank's security has become so lax over the years." She rolled her eyes slightly for effect. "You recall the incident with the Lestranges' vault being broken into by that Potter boy?" She shook her head ruefully. "Terrible thing, that."

"Yes," Nott agreed somewhat blandly, flipping the page on his notepad. "The diamonds are insured, I presume."

"Yes."

She gave him a look that indicated she did not wish to discuss how much for, which made Nott assume that it was in the hundreds of millions. He also knew that she was not the kind of woman to discuss fees. She would pay him handsomely, he knew, but the money wasn't what mattered to Nott. It was the thrill of solving a puzzle, of hunting down and rounding up the usual suspects – to play the detective, as it were.

"Is it alright if I look around now?"

Matilda nodded. "Of course. You must know that I already had the Curse-Breakers in here earlier, and they informed me that not a trace of evidence was left behind." She sighed in exasperation. "Apparently the diamonds just disappeared!"

Both sisters stirred in their seats, and Mary let out a derisive snort. "Aunt Tilda, nothing disappears without a trace."

"Yes, I know that, Mary!" Matilda snapped, and then immediately composed herself.

Mary, however, looked down at her lap with a mixture of shame and confusion, unaware of her rude behaviour.

"Mr Nott," Lizzy interrupted, her mellifluous voice slicing through the tension, "please excuse what might sound like an impertinent question, but if the Curse-Breakers didn't find anything, what makes you think that you can?"

All three women looked up at him expectantly.

Nott smiled charmingly before closing his notepad. "Oh, I doubt my wand will pick up what theirs didn't, but I'll have a look around and see with my eyes."

Lizzy blinked. "Excuse me?"

Nott winked and pocketed his notepad. "Sometimes all you need is a pair of eyes and an open mind."

With that, Nott rose to his feet and took out his wand, scouring every nook and cranny he could find. It was a somewhat lengthy task, but he had investigated crime scenes before. Once, long ago, he had studied to become an Auror, as well as a Curse-Breaker, and even a barrister. Not one to be considered unprepared or lacking in knowledge, he truly believed in educating himself in many fields. Being well-versed in the law and its practices, as well as being expertly trained with a wand, Nott was able to quickly scan the room and find what he had expected: nothing. And while there was no magical traces left at the scene, Nott knew that all crimes didn't have to be committed with magic. Like he told Lizzy, sometimes all it took to see the truth was to look with one's own eyes.

"May I take some pictures of the scene?" Nott asked, after finishing his sweep of the room.

"Of course," Matilda assented, glancing curiously at the small, black sack that Nott withdrew from his pocket.

He tapped his wand on the bag, and it immediately grew into the size of a large handbag, which he set on the floor. Sheathing his wand, he bent down and opened the sack, pulling out a large camera with a strap attached to the back of it and a large light bulb set on top in the front.

He began to take photographs of the scene: the case where the diamonds were kept, the floors surrounding, the ceiling and windows, the exits, and, finally, the walls. There were relatively few paintings hung in the museum, especially near the case where the diamonds were kept, save for a horribly garish canvas done in red, white, and black. It looked as though a troll had vomited blood on it and then decided to scratch the hell out of it before drawing blobs of shapes with mud. Nott supposed this was what one called abstract art. He called it ugly.

As he took photographs of the art piece, Nott noticed how the painting hung somewhat low and titled to the side. He could see a section of the wall – cleaner and lighter than the rest of the walls in the museum – clearly indicating that the painting had been moved, if only an inch.

Nott lowered his camera and frowned. "That frame looks slightly askew."

Matilda, who had been chatting quietly with her nieces, turned and followed his eyes. "Yes, it does," she agreed, the disapproval evident in her voice. She then stood up and stared at the painting intently, while Nott took some more photographs of it, before summoning her house-elf.

The small elf appeared in front of her with a quiet pop.

"How may I serve you, Mistress?" it asked subserviently, bowing lowly.

"Right that painting," Matilda ordered, pointing directly at it.

"Yes, Mistress," Kip responded, bowing even lower before straightening its back.

With a snap of its long, bony fingers, the house-elf straightened the painting, as well as hung it upside down.

Matilda put her hands on her hips and let out an exasperated sigh. "Why in Merlin's name did you turn it upside down?"

Kip's floppy ears drooped at its mistress's chastising tone. "Mistress told Kip to right it like how it was before the diamonds were taken."

Matilda knitted her brow in confusion and glanced over at Nott for an answer. The detective, however, was busy examining the painting, taking another snapshot of the 'righted' work of art.

"If the painting was turned upside down," he mused to himself, lowering the camera to his chest. "I . . ." He paused, glancing down at the matriarch with curious green eyes. "Forgive me, Madam, but my knowledge of _fine_ art is limited. Could you tell me about this painting?"

Matilda straightened her back and sniffed haughtily. It was her chance to redeem herself since having been caught hanging the art improperly. "It's an abstract piece titled _Retribution_. It depicts the Goblin Rebellion of 1612."

"Of course," Nott said absently, looking up at the painting that just seemed to be a picture of red slashes and blotchy black objects. "Was this one of the pieces that you had transferred from your vault or had you acquired it later?"

"I acquired it just before the transfer," she answered in a clipped tone. "Kip must have hung it upside down when setting it up in the museum."

The elf hung its head at its mistress's words but did not object to them. Nott understood that Kip had merely hung the painting according to Matilda's instructions. Seeing the way that the socialite was staring disapprovingly at the house-elf, however, Nott decided to break the tension and find a way to excuse the matriarch from the room so that he could continue his investigation unhindered.

"Is it possible for me to obtain some photographs of the diamonds themselves?"

Matilda glanced up at him and blinked once before nodding her head. "Yes, I will go get them. I have some stills from before they were moved here. Would you like those, too?"

Nott nodded. "Yes, Madam. That would be greatly appreciated.

Matilda then turned to look at her nieces and snapped her fingers at the eldest. "Mary, come with me."

"Thank you," Nott said with a slight bow, still holding his camera, as he watched the two women leave.

Once her aunt and half-sister were out of sight, Lizzy rose from her seat at the table and walked over to where Nott stood taking photographs.

"So, what do you think?" she asked, tucking a stray lock of auburn hair behind her ear.

"Well," Nott began with a deep intake of breath, "there is no magical trace evidence _here_; however, I might find something at Gringotts." Her eyebrows slightly rose at this information while Nott was distracted with one of the dials on the camera. "Until then, I'm going to show these photographs to a contact of mine at the Department."

He held up his camera and took another shot of the painting before kneeling in front of the bottomless sack on the floor.

"Oh? What department?" Lizzy asked, sounding intrigued.

"Ancient Wizarding Artefacts," Nott answered curtly. Sniffing, he deposited the camera inside the bag before tying the string and shrinking it so that it would fit back inside the pocket of his trousers.

"May I accompany you?"

Nott, stone-faced and impassive, turned and gave Lizzy an appraising look before shaking his head. "Sorry, love, but I protect my contacts' confidentiality." He absent-mindedly reached inside his breast pocket to retrieve his cigarette case. "It's bad for business if I reveal their identities, you see."

He gave her a wolfish grin before opening the case and withdrawing a fresh cigarette to stick between his teeth. Then, as though remembering that the mistress didn't like 'the smoke', Nott took the fag between his forefinger and thumb and grimaced at it before placing it alongside its brothers. He'd have to wait until his correspondence with the matriarch was completed. Until then, he'd have itchy fingers and a sour disposition.

"You can accompany me to Gringotts', if you like," he offered as conciliation. "I'll need a Burke there in order to get permission to enter the vault."

Lizzy's rosebud mouth parted in an endearing smile. "Of course, I'd love to. I'll ask my aunt."

"Good," he said with a nod and a smile, pocketing his cigarettes. He turned to look at the painting once more, staring at it for a while before Lizzy's voice cut through, interrupting his linear thoughts.

"Theodore?"

He turned. "Yes, sweetheart?"

"The diamonds," she began hesitantly, wringing her hands, "surely they can't be lost." She glanced over at the glass case before turning back to meet his dark green eyes. "That is, they can't have vanished altogether – can they've?"

Nott reached for his flask and smirked. "Things are never lost, darling. They're just waiting to be found." He took a sip and winced as the pain shooting up his back returned. "And diamonds are forever, Lizzy . . . Diamonds are forever."

**-x-**


	3. The Bank

**The Flawless Caper**

**03 – The Bank**

There was so much blood. _Everywhere_. He never knew so much could pour out of someone so small. She was lying in his arms coughing, trying hard not to cry, and he wanted this all to be a dream so badly that he would have torn out his own heart to make it so. But life would have never given him such an easy option, so he forced down the bile in his throat and put pressure on the wound.

Vaguely, amidst the siren wails and the screaming, he could hear Tracey behind him, roaring for help, and he hoped to hell that she was directing the mediwizards his way.

"I really . . . liked this dress," she croaked in his arms, and there was a weak, watery smile on her lips even as her teeth gritted through the pain.

Blood seeped thick and red through the blue fabric of her dress and stained it dark like the bruises on his back and shoulder. His hands were slippery where they pressed through his jacket, which he had thrown on her to help staunch the wound. Suddenly, her mouth clenched, and her protuberant silvery-blue eyes fluttered shut. He could tell that it was hard for her to even open them again, but she tried – for him.

"Shh, shh, look at me, beautiful. Look at me," he said, one hand on her cheek to guide her gaze while the other was buried in fabric and blood. "I need you to stay awake, darling. Okay? Just for a little while." There was a tremor way down deep in his throat and even though there was no way she could have heard it, he knew it was there and he refused to let her see him scared.

"It's going to be alright, beautiful. You're going to be—"

A bell rang in the darkness, piercing through the haze of Theodore Nott's mind. He awoke in a cold sweat, clutching at his chest in mild panic. When the bell sounded twice more, bed-springs creaked as long fingers reached out and fumbled for a wand. Flicking on the lights with a delicate swish, he brushed his hair back from his damp forehead and stared dumbly at the antique, magically-altered Muggle phone in front of him, wondering why the hell it was making that incessant racket. Curling his fingers around the neck of the phone, he lifted the receiver off the cradle and put it against his ear.

"Hullo? Tracey?" His voice was raspy and unused. "Why are you calling me on this blasted thing? The network's down again? Bollocks. Are you at the office? Great, can—hmm? Now, Trace, don't get your knickers in a twist. I don't know why she called there looking for me. Maybe it's because the network is down and she has no means to get a hold of me . . . Ha ha, very funny. No, I haven't bedded the woman yet. Oh, I just said that conversationally. Yes, _conversationally_. For Merlin's sake, woman, it's too damn early to be arguing semantics!

"What? No, I don't really have time to do the banking today. Yes, I know I'll be at Gringotts, but—_Fine. _Alright, alright. Listen, why don't you be an angel and tell Miss Burke—she's still in the waiting room, yes?—to meet me at the bank. Yes, I'm fairly certain that's part of your job, as is doing the bank roll. Yes. No. No! That's not the point—don't start in on that again! I—No, no. I'm sorry, Trace. It's so terribly early in the morning and—yes, yes, I know. Will do. Have a good day, darling. Mhm. Thanks, Trace. Bye-bye."

Groaning, Nott went to put the phone back down when it slipped out of his hands and thudded onto the carpeted floor. The bed-springs protested as he reached down to pick it up and put it back on the hook. He had originally decided against getting the damn thing for the office and his flat, but Tracey had insisted since the Floo network was almost always on the blink when they needed it. And she was right, as usual.

Running his hand over the length of his face, Nott swivelled his legs out of bed and placed his naked feet on the floor. He ran his fingers through his fringe again and yawned soundlessly before opening the drawer to the bedside cabinet. With a resigned sigh, he fingered the syringe for a moment before picking it up and taking the cap off. Plunging the needle into the rubber top of the phial, he pulled back the stopper and watched the tube fill with the clear serum. Once full, he set the bottle back down and flicked his fingers against the glass casing, squirting out any air bubbles that might have been trapped inside. With a deliberate motion, he slipped the needle into the readied vein. He watched, hypnotised, as his blood mixed with the serum, bursting in delicate red tendrils, before plunging the stopper all the way down.

He pulled out the needle and let it drop to the floor, falling back onto the bed and curling his hands into fists. The days had begun to feel so much like this sort of falling, like the bottom had dropped out of his stomach and his heart had lodged up in his throat. A part of him was afraid to wonder what would happen if he got accustomed to feeling the serum swimming through his veins – if he hadn't already – or to the violent lows that racked his body like a tremor when he came down. And sometimes he questioned if the pain he felt was even real or just an excuse to shoot up. Or maybe it was both.

Lifting himself up off the bed, Nott stood to his feet and cleared the back of his throat with a raspy cough and then another. He wiped the beaded sweat off his brow with the back of his hand and stumbled forward. Bracing himself against the wall, he made his way to the toilet where he stripped off his clothes and stepped into the tub. He stood under the nozzle of the spray, feeling the hot water pound away at his heat-reddened skin and massage the taut muscles of his back. Closing his eyes, he dropped his head and let his mind hazily wander to the past. He saw her slip into the bathroom after him, rubbing at tired grey-blue eyes through the sleeve of one of his dress shirts. He imagined her climbing into the shower behind him and kissing the puckered scar at the back of his right shoulder. There, she would hold him from behind until the hot water ran cold, and he would carry her back out into the bedroom, throwing her down on the bed and—

Nott lowered his chin and opened his eyes through the rivulets of water that poured down his face. He was a dark man with an equally dark past, and he hid his heart behind locked doors and bruises too numerous to count. That same heart, now cold and unused, still ached for the recognition of a feeling that only someone who has known true love could understand. And though he'd never admit it, he wanted to feel that love again – to feel it slide from limb to limb beneath his skin and heal his bruises. But such a hope was a fool's hope; nothing more than a fantasy. He could never get back what was taken from him so long ago . . .

**-x-**

Miss Elizabeth Burke was waiting for him outside of Gringotts in a belted white cr_ê_pe silk dress with matching shoes. Her face was somewhat flushed, as though she had just been running, and her dark red hair was parted on the left side, falling down her shoulders in loose waves. As Nott approached, he had to resist the urge to reach out and run his fingers through her silky tendrils and pull.

"Good morning, Miss Burke," he greeted, finishing the last drag of his cigarette.

His smile brought a fainter one to her lips, and her brown eyes seemed to twinkle in the sunlight. She lowered her chin and glanced up at him coquettishly through her lashes. "It's Lizzy, remember?"

His smile widened, and he stubbed the butt of his cigarette in the bin beside her before offering her his arm. She readily took it, and they ascended the stairs to the bank. Opening the door, he ushered her inside, and they both made their way to the reception area, which was a long table where several goblins sat at on high stools.

"Mister Nott and Miss Burke, I presume," a rather large and broad-chested goblin greeted, his eyes as round and dark as coals. "I am Garblox, financial advisor to the Burke family."

Nott leaned into the side of the table, looking the goblin up and down. "So," he began, clicking his tongue along his incisor, "you're the one who oversaw the transfer of Ms Burke's diamonds?"

"Amongst other possessions," Garblox answered, smiling a white, sharp-toothed grin, which made Nott wonder whether or not the goblin was actually smiling at him or eyeing him like a side of meat.

Keeping his eyes on the goblin, Nott slowly withdrew his notepad and quill. "Can you explain to me how the Cordalis Diamonds and Ms Burke's other possessions were removed?" He brought the quill to his tongue and began scribbling notes before the goblin even answered his question. "Ms Burke suggested that her house-elf had Apparated the items out."

Garblox snorted derisively, shaking his head. "That would be _impossible_. Gringotts has wards that prevent Apparation – by wizard, elf, or goblin."

"How was it achieved, then?"

"We lifted the wards set on the Burke's vault and moved each item, piece by piece, to a designated loading area where her elf was allowed to Apparate them to Burke Manor."

Nott raised his eyes from his notepad to the goblin. "Could you tell me what wards or curses were placed on the diamonds?"

Garblox shook his head. "The curse on the Cordalis Diamonds has been in place for well over a century, since they were first placed in Gringotts. The wards set in and around the vault itself are intricate and highly efficient – such are the security measures of this bank." He gestured grandly to their surroundings. "However, I'm afraid that I cannot help you outside these walls . . ."

"Why's that?" Nott asked sceptically, his mouth twisted into a frown.

Garblox's grin widened. "I was not the one who set up Ms Burke's security." He glanced briefly at Lizzy before turning back to Nott. "She insisted on hiring outside help."

Nott noticed the slight bitterness in the goblin's tone and decided to press further. "You are no longer in charge of the diamonds, then?"

Garblox's toothy grin faltered. "I am still called in to clean and appraise them – along with the rest of her collection."

"I see," Nott said, pocketing his notepad. "I'd like to inspect the vault now, if that's alright."

"Of course," Garblox said with a nod. "First, Miss Burke must show me her wand for identification."

Shocked, Lizzy stood still for a moment before Nott gently nudged her elbow. Shaking her head, she tittered softly and offered Nott an embarrassed-looking smile before opening her purse and retrieving her short blackthorn wand from inside. She handed it over to Garblox, who examined it intently. Muttering a quiet incantation that Nott could not hear, the goblin returned it to Lizzy's waiting hands with a thin smile.

Then Garblox clapped his own hands together and a younger goblin came running over, handing the larger and older goblin a leather bag that seemed to be full of jangling metal. Garblox took it without thanks and curled his long finger towards himself. "Follow me, please."

Nott and Lizzy shared a knowing look before following the goblin down the hall to a pair of large steel doors that opened to a set of wooden tracks. Summoning a cart with a loud whistle, Garblox waved to Nott and Lizzy, who awkwardly climbed inside with the goblin. After a slight jerk, the cart took off at a break-neck speed, making Nott glad that he didn't wear his hat today. As they travelled deeper and deeper into what seemed like a bottomless cavern, Lizzy reached out and took Nott's hand. He held it gently in his until they made their teeth-shattering stop.

Climbing out of the cart, Nott helped Lizzy onto her wobbling feet before turning to take in the sight before him: rows upon rows of burning flambeaux set in iron-wrought sconces. They ominously hung from the stone walls, lighting a narrow, winding passage. It had been a long time since Nott had been in the vaults, but he was fairly certain that they were on the bottom-most floor, below Lestrange, Black, Malfoy, and even Nott.

Garblox led them down the path and through several suites of antiquated rooms. After a minute, they finally reached a high archway that opened up into an even larger passageway guarded by a gigantic red and gold dragon that was tethered to the ground. Nott didn't even get a chance to see what kind of dragon it was before it roared, breathing a long hiss of blue and orange flames, and retreated around the corner. The metal instruments inside the leather bag, also known as Clankers, were still vibrating in Garblox's hands, deafening dragon and wizard alike.

Finally, they came at length to the foot of a vault numbered 003: the Burke family vault. Reaching out, the goblin pressed his small palm to the surface of the door, which melted away to reveal what looked like a large cave filled from floor to ceiling with golden coins and other precious items. Without preamble, all three stepped inside and Nott went to work straight away, inspecting the room and its items with deliberate care. After about twenty-some-odd minutes of intense and complicated wandwork, he holstered his wand and took in a deep breath, thoughtfully rubbing his chin with long, calloused fingers.

"Well?" Lizzy asked expectantly, giving him an eager look.

Slipping his fingers into his breast pocket, Nott drummed them along the silver cigarette case before offering the redhead a defeated shrug. "Same as the museum: no trace evidence, magical or otherwise."

"What does that mean?" she asked, looking from Nott to Garblox.

"Goblin magic, like elf magic, is difficult for wizards to detect," the goblin explained in a bored tone. "Not even trained Curse-Breakers can tell."

Lizzy shook her head, nonplussed. "So, it's not possible at all for a witch or wizard to detect elf or goblin magic?"

Garblox slowly blinked his small black eyes at her, regarding her as one would regard an idiot. "A wizard would have to become fully knowledgeable about the magical practices of both creatures."

"Now I know what my new hobby will be," Nott said with determined look, fishing his hands inside his trouser pockets.

"Good luck with that, _sir_," Garblox retorted with feigned sincerity, tenting his fingers together. "While elves are subservient enough to reveal their secrets to their masters, we goblins have no masters." He pointed his connected fingers at Nott as his sharp-toothed grin returned. "You'd be hard-pressed to find one who would impart such knowledge to a . . . wizard."

"I'll keep that in mind, _friend_," Nott said, ignoring the slight as he retrieved a familiar black sack from his pocket. Taking out his wand, he enlarged the bag and withdrew the camera from inside. "Mind if I take some pictures?"

The goblin nodded blankly in assent, and Nott holstered his wand and immediately began taking pictures. Once finished and all packed up, the three exited the vault to make the harrowing journey back to the surface. The ride back was even more violent, plummeting their stomachs into their shoes. Lizzy held Nott's hand the entire time. As Garblox escorted them to the lobby, Nott turned back to face the goblin, intent on asking him a few last questions.

"Thanks for the help, but tell me, Mr Garblox . . . did you see or notice anything unusual when you last inspected the diamonds at Burke Manor?"

The goblin thought on it for a moment before resolutely shaking his head. "No."

"When was the last time you saw them?" Nott asked, his green eyes flashing.

"A few . . . a few weeks ago."

Licking his chapped lips, Nott nodded and slid his hands into his pockets. "One more question, if I may . . ." He paused, withdrawing one hand to caress his stubbled chin. "How exactly were you able to circumvent the curse placed on the diamonds?"

Garblox blinked. "I did not." He lifted his hand to point a bony finger at Lizzy. "It was Miss Burke, here, who helped move the jewels."

Nott barely turned his head as his eyes travelled sideways to meet hers. "I see."

"Indentured servants, like house-elves attached to a family, can freely move the objects," Garblox added casually. "The curse does not apply to them since they are owned by the family."

"Thank you for your time, Mr Garblox," Nott said politely and bowed, which caused the goblin to frown.

"You're welcome," he replied curtly, before returning to his office. "Goodbye."

Nott smirked and turned to look down at Lizzy, whose mouth hung ajar at Garblox's discourteous dismissal.

"He's a sour little goblin," she muttered, as they both headed towards the exit and stepped outside. The late morning sun was warm and soothing, lighting up the redhead's face.

"He's the politest one I've ever met," Nott replied grimly, taking his cigarette case out of his breast pocket. He was dying for a fag and a shot of whisky.

"You've met many, then?" Lizzy asked, bringing her hand up to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun.

Nott lit the cigarette and shook out the match, leading her down the stairs onto the pedestrian mall. "Enough to not want one for a friend," he retorted dryly, taking a long, satisfying drag, "or an enemy."

Laughing, Lizzy tucked a lock of wavy auburn hair behind her ear before looping her arm through his. "You, sir, are a black horse." She bit her lip and glanced up at him shyly. "So, what are you up to now, _Detective_?"

"I need to get a hold of your aunt's Curse-Breakers," he answered glibly, with a cigarette gritted between his teeth. "Since I can't fire-call them, I'll have to Apparate there for a palaver. Before that, though, I think I'm going to pay a visit to my contact at the Department."

Lizzy smiled and ran her manicured fingers up the arm of his jacket, tucking her head between his ribcage and biceps. Startled, Nott withdrew his cigarette from his mouth with a free hand and glanced down at the crown of her head. It had been a long time since he'd allowed a woman to get so close. He barely knew her, yet there was something familiar about her, and vulnerable. Maybe it was shape of her eyes or the cadence of her voice – or perhaps it was just the smell of her hair and the curve of her body that drew him in. Regardless the reason, Theodore Nott was no fool. This woman wanted something from him, and he was eventually going to find out what.

Clearing his throat ceremoniously, Nott let his grip on her arm slacken and retrieved his wand from his jacket. Noting the cold and sudden change in his demeanour, Lizzy let her hands slip down to his wrist, squeezing it affectionately as she turned her face to smile up at him.

"Would you care to get some brunch with me before you go?" she enquired, brown eyes beseeching. "My treat."

Nott dropped the stub of his cigarette to the ground and crushed it under the heel of his shoe before slowly exhaling. "Sure, darling," he said with an almost unnatural smile, "but I insist that I treat you."

Winding down the cobblestone path, the couple made their way to a charming little café at the end of the block. The waitress offered them a table outside in the sun, which they gladly took. However, as the wind picked up, Nott began to regret their decision.

"So, what's the deal with you and your sister?" he asked, once their brunch was served.

Lizzy's eyes widened for a half-second before she schooled her features. "Mary?" She shrugged indifferently, stabbing at her fruit salad with her fork. "She's the oldest and Aunt Tilda's favourite."

Nott raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean to you?"

She looked down at her plate and bit her lip. "I guess it means she will inherit the diamonds while I'll be lucky to get the manor—"

"The _stolen_ diamonds?" Nott interrupted with a snort, causing Lizzy to look up with shock etched all over her face. "What a deal."

"Yes," she began with a breathless laugh, her stunned features morphing into a wide smile, "I suppose looking at it now I'll make out better than she." Then, her smile faltered, and she glanced down at her plate. "But knowing Aunt Tilda, she'll probably deed Mary the house and property since the diamonds are now gone."

"Sounds like Auntie Tilda holds grudges and plays favourites," Nott said, regarding Lizzy with keen eyes.

"She's not that bad, really," she protested, "but she was the eldest sibling in her family, and a spinster." She rolled her eyes at this and smirked bitterly. "Mary's exactly like her while I, on the other hand, am a late addition from a second marriage that my aunt never approved of." She set down her fork and looked at him levelly, her smirk altogether vanished. "Less blue in my mother's veins; therefore, less in mine. I might as well have been born a bastard."

Nott pursed his lips together and stared at her for a moment before smiling broadly and lifting his glass of water in salutation. "Families: can't live with them; can't do them in and get away with it."

Lizzy hesitated for a split second before returning the gesture. Taking a sip, Nott observed how the muscle above her left eye twitched and how her features subtly shifted before she reined in her emotions. He was certainly suspicious of her, but he was captivated, too. It had been a long time since a woman intrigued him.

As they continued to eat their brunch in comfortable silence, Nott was glad that she didn't try to engage him in small talk. Instead, she enquired about his profession – asking him what it was like to be a detective, what kind of cases he'd taken, what danger he'd been in. So he entertained her with humorous stories and some filled with adventure, glossing over the fine details and cases that were too private for him to discuss. She laughed and gasped in all the right places, and he felt himself loosening up, if only just a little. But when the meal was finished and the sun rose higher in the east, Nott knew it was time for him to continue his business before the day ended and he found himself completely entranced in her company.

Wiping his mouth with a napkin, Nott pushed back his chair with his calves and straightened his legs as he rose to his feet. With a flick of his wrist, he grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair and swung it over his shoulders, pushing his arms through the sleeves. He gave Lizzy a charming wink before adjusting the cuffs on his shirt and lifting the collar up on his jacket to protect his neck from the wind.

"Thanks for brunch, darling," he said with a slight drawl, reaching into his pocket and taking out a few Galleons, which he tossed onto the table.

"Leaving so soon?" she asked, her brown eyes flashing with a look of disappointment.

"Have to meet that contact of mine," he answered brusquely, taking out his cigarette case.

"Taking the Floo?"

"It's down, love," he stated absently with a frown, seeing the case empty. "Remember?"

"Oh, right," she said, bringing a hand to her lips. "When can I – I mean my aunt and I – expect you next?"

"When I've gathered more information . . ." He paused, patting his hands down the front of his jacket, hoping he had an extra pack stowed away. When he couldn't find one, he sighed and dropped his hands in defeat. "Don't worry, Lizzy dear," he said, directing his attention back to the redhead and offering her another wink. "I have your number."

She blushed softly at this and nodded. "Goodbye, then, Theodore," she said, offering him her hand.

Nott took her gloveless hand and kissed the soft, smooth skin. He let his lips linger for a moment before straightening his back and nodding his goodbye. Without turning back, he exited the café and made his way down the narrow cobbled streets of Diagon Alley, looking for a secluded point to Apparate from. Finding a spot, he closed his eyes and concentrated on his destination. Suddenly, his world went black for a moment, and he saw the flash of red before he felt the compressing darkness of Apparating. Then, as though tripping through a crack in time, he fell face-first onto the pavement.

A blind, searing pain shot up from his fingers to his chest, and he turned over onto his back, jerking his hand to his chest. Clutching it tightly, he looked down to see that his right thumb was missing. Actually, it was lying on the ground five feet behind him: he had splinched himself while Apparating.

"Son-of-a—"

Nott's colourful expletive was cut short by a concerned, elderly voice from behind.

"Young man, are you all right?" asked a very old, very short wizard with long white hair and a matching white beard that reached all the way down to his navel, or where Nott assumed his navel was.

"Yes, yes," Nott muttered, wincing as he stood to his feet and walked over to where his severed thumb lay. "Something – or someone – interrupted my Apparation."

"Hmm, I didn't see anything," the old man said, glancing behind him.

Grimacing, Nott bent down and picked up the severed digit, examining it with a look of disgust. The elder wizard hobbled over to where he stood and leaned forward on his cane, inspecting the wound on Nott's hand with a thoughtful look in his milky blue eyes.

"We had better get you to St Mungo's to, uh"—he paused briefly, pointing at Nott's severed thumb with his cane—"put that back on." The old wizard then turned around, glancing over his shoulder at Nott, gesturing that he follow. "You can take the Floo in my shop."

"The network's back up?" Nott asked, looking down at his thumb one last time before pocketing it and following the helpful wizard around the corner.

"It was never off here," the old man said with a gruff voice, his bushy, white brow wrinkling in confusion.

Nott rolled his eyes. "Figures," he mumbled, wondering why it was only down at his office and flat.

Before he could dwell on it for much longer, the elder wizard led him inside, taking him into the back of the shop where a large stone fireplace stood. He pointed to the bag of Floo powder sitting on the dusty mantle with his cane, and Nott walked over and reached his hand inside.

Pinching the powder between his long fingers, Nott said, 'thank you', before feeding the fire and enunciating his destination: St Mungo's.

The elder wizard nodded in acknowledgement, watching Nott step into the green flames. "It's just not your day, is it, lad?"

"Sir," Nott began dryly, "it hasn't been my _decade_."

As the old man loudly guffawed, Nott plastered a grim smile on his face before disappearing into a gust of green ash and smoke.

**-x-**


	4. Blaise Zabini

**The Flawless Caper**

**04 – Blaise Zabini**

Nott awoke to the sterile smell of sickness. Harsh light filtered into the room through thin white curtains, stinging his eyes. It was a welcome sort of pain after what he had just endured. Even the dull ache throbbing in his back and shoulder with every heartbeat felt like the pulsing of relief. But he knew it wouldn't last.

The Healers had given him an elixir for the pain, and while his thumb was re-attached and felt fine, he apparently had more done to himself than just the splinching incident. Whoever had attacked him had used a little-known curse that had slowly sapped away his strength and energy. After a few hours of research and applying the proper salves and potions, the Healers managed to counter the effects of the curse; however, the entire ordeal had left him exhausted.

Drawing back the covers, Nott sat up and suddenly felt cold. He looked down, and that was when he noticed that he was wearing one of those flimsy hospital gowns. Grimacing at his attire, he swivelled his legs outward and planted his feet firmly on the floor. He wearily got up and began searching for his clothes as the Wireless played low in the background. As he methodically got dressed, the relief he had felt earlier was now turning into something else – something that sent shivers down his spine like waves breaking against the shore.

_"Don't you know what kind of man I am? I said I'd never fall in love again, and I meant that. There's only you. There'll only ever be you."_

He sat back down on the bed in his wrinkled clothes and sighed, pushing his fingers through his dishevelled hair as he remembered the last time he was in a room such as this.

_Her blood was smeared like rust on his sleeves. He brought a hand to her cheek, caressing her soft alabaster skin with his fingertips. He hadn't left her side the entire night, and his eyes were stinging with regret and worry. He wanted to laugh or cry – anything – but it would have just made everything hurt. Instead, he made a sound more like a sniffle and lowered his head towards hers, holding her cold hand against his face. Kissing her open palm, he whispered words of love until she finally opened her eyes and weakly smiled up at him. The mix of emotions he saw reflected in those eyes was like nothing else he had ever seen or ever would again . . ._

"Hey, Thumbless," came a soft, familiar voice, stirring him from his reverie. Tracey Davis was leaning against the doorframe with a wry, mirthless smile angled across her lips. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Nott muttered, pulling on his jacket. "Why are you here?"

"I'm happy to see you, too," she quipped dryly, before pushing herself off the frame and walking over to his bed. "I thought I'd bring you this."

She handed him a small book from her bag, which Nott took before giving the cover a puzzled look.

"_Moby-Dick_?" he read out loud, glancing back up at Tracey. "Why did you bring me this?"

"I didn't know how long you'd be here"—she shrugged—"so I thought I'd bring your something to read. I found it in your desk with some of the pages dog-eared."

A half-smirk formed on Nott's lips, and he nodded at her, lightly tapping the spine of the book on his forehead. "Thanks, Trace."

"No problem," she said, plopping down beside him on the mattress. "I can see how you relate to it."

"Pardon me?"

"The book," she said, pointing at it.

Nott scratched his chin. "Clearly, I got that, but why?"

Tracey snorted derisively. "Seriously?"

Nott shook his head and shrugged, nonplussed.

"Theo, you _are_ Ahab," she said, bringing her hands up in the air. "Your relentless search for the truth, no matter what; endangering anyone who chooses to follow you and—Oh." She stopped herself short, bringing her hands to her mouth. "Oh Merlin, I'm—I'm so sorry, Theo. I didn't mean—"

"No, Trace, you're right," Nott interrupted with a dismissive wave. "I am Ahab." He looked down at his lap for a moment before blanking his expression. "I think it's because I've always wanted a peg leg."

Tracey dropped her hands and glared reproachfully at him. "Theo, don't be flippant."

"I'm not," he said defensively, leaning back. "Hear me out for a minute. I've actually given it a lot of thought."

"Really?" she said, narrowing her cold blue eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Do tell."

Nott brought his hand to the back of his neck. "I dunno. I guess I figure that if you have a peg leg or some kind of deformity then maybe it's enough to simply keep on living." He lowered his hand and shrugged. "You know, bravely facing life with your disability. But without these things you're actually meant to make something of your life: get a job, get married, have kids"—he gestured vaguely with his hands—"wear dress robes."

Tracey laughed breathlessly through her nose, suppressing a grin. "So, you're saying that if you had a peg leg then you wouldn't be a grumpy sod who chased after danger and diamonds and short skirts?" She finally succumbed to smirking and then pointed at his hand. "Well, you're on your way: you were previously missing a thumb."

Nott raised an eyebrow. "Now who's being flippant?"

Tracey playfully shoved Nott before breaking out into a fit of laugher. "Okay, Ahab," she said, taking in a deep breath to restrain her giggles, "you want to tell me what happened here?" Her eyes searched his intently. "I was surprised to find out that you had splinched yourself. What are you, sixteen?"

"Funny," Nott said, not looking amused. "I think someone attacked me, but I couldn't see who." He glanced over at Tracey, who was lying back on the bed with her ankles crossed. He had thought to tell her about the curse, but decided not to. "And _who_ told you I was even here?"

"Adrian," she answered simply, examining her nails.

"Pucey?"

"Do you know any other?"

Nott frowned. "You're not dating him again, are you?"

"Doesn't matter," Tracey answered, sitting up. "He sent me a rush owl – since our network is down – and wrote that you had splinched your thumb while Apparating. I didn't know how busy they were here or how long the reconnecting would go, so I decided to Apparate here and bring you a book to read."

"Very considerate, darling," Nott said, offering Tracey a grin before rising to his feet. "But I'm going to have to get going."

"Where?" Her expression darkened. "To see that girl?"

"The client?" Nott buttoned his jacket and looked over his shoulder at her, shaking his head. "No, I have to go to the Ancient Artefacts Department."

Tracey raised both eyebrows. "Zabini?"

"Yes, but I'll have to head back to the office first to pick up the—"

Nott was unable to finish his sentence before Tracey had handed him a plain manila envelope, which she had surreptitiously retrieved from the satchel she had placed on her lap.

"You developed the film?" he asked, blinking at the large envelope before lifting the tag to look inside.

"Of course," Tracey replied snottily, as if Nott had just asked a question that didn't need asking. "I also included the pictures Matilda Burke gave you."

Nott grinned and slipped the photographs back inside before leaning down to give the brunette a quick peck on the cheek. "What would I do without you, angel?"

"Very little," she answered cheekily, pushing herself off the bed. "By the by, did you deposit the cheques at Gringotts?"

Nott's long face fell slightly, and if he had been an ordinary man, he would have blushed or grinned sheepishly at his dereliction. Instead, he rolled his tongue along the inside of his cheek before clicking it along his incisor and shook his head.

"No, I'm afraid I didn't really have the time." He turned his palms upward. "And then there was the attack, and I had to Floo straight-away to St Mungo's."

"Mhm," Tracey hummed, altogether unconvinced. Twisting her lips into a reproachful frown, she held out her hand and snapped her fingers at him. "Here, give them to me, then."

Nott reached into his jacket and pulled out a small stack of cheques. He handed them over without preamble, and Tracey snatched them from his fingers with a huff.

"I'll go to the bank," she said, slipping the cheques into her bag, "while _you_ subject yourself to Blaise's . . . indefatigable charm."

"Yes, wonderful," Nott retorted blandly, stuffing the envelope into his jacket pocket. "I cannot wait."

**-x-**

Nott had Apparated to a safe spot in the west end of London, just outside of Piccadilly Circus. The West End's evening shows had yet to start, yet droves of people were pouring out onto the pavement from the tube station below. Busy Londoners were hurrying past dawdling tourists and their cameras, while others were strolling leisurely through the square, window-shopping as they passed football and rugby displays at Lillywhites.

This sort of crush of humanity used to overwhelm Nott in his younger years, but now he had learnt how to blend in with the Muggles, to be invisible when need be. Now, he could even spot a witch or wizard in the crowd without even thinking.

Making his way towards one of the secret entrances to the Ministry, he could not help but direct his eyes upward where Anteros seemed to loom against the city backdrop. The tips of the inanimate god's outstretched aluminium wings were just grazing the sky from the angle of Nott's sight-line. The constant flux of life within the statue's shadow drew his attention for a moment as he watched a couple kiss in front of the fountain.

_Her right hand fisted around his lapel while the other curled around the back of his neck. He pulled her in close with an arm about the small of her back, and she turned her face up at him, smiling dreamily . . ._

The pair of phantoms twined deftly into each other, and Nott looked away – his heart suddenly aching. When he finally made his way to the secret passage and down into the labyrinth of the Ministry, rounding the steep corners and endless staircases, he found himself at the Office of Ancient Wizarding Artefacts and Research. At the reception, he was greeted by a mousy-looking woman in her mid-to-late thirties, who led him through several hallways and rooms, until they reached a small corner office.

She left him without word at the open door, and Nott silently entered the room. Bent over a large desk with a gem in one hand and a small hand glass in the other was Blaise Zabini. He was a darkly handsome man with soft umber-tanned skin and black hair shorn close to his scalp. His features were refined yet masculine. Dressed in fine clothing, he looked nothing short of dashing. He wasn't nearly as tall as Nott, but he was broader and more built, with captivating eyes that shimmered a honey gold in the dim lamplight.

"Look at what the cat dragged in," Blaise announced casually, setting down the gem and loupe before swivelling around on his chair to meet Nott's sea-green eyes with his own rich golden yellow. "Hullo, Teddy boy."

Nott cleared his throat and thrust his hands into his pockets, annoyed with the pet name that Blaise liked to bestow upon him. In fact, Blaise was the only one who called Nott 'Teddy' and got away with it. Well, for the most part.

"Blaise," Nott greeted his colleague and 'friend' with a slight nod, removing a hand from his pocket to undo the buttons of his jacket. "It's good to see you. You look well."

Blaise's handsome face cracked a wide white-toothed smile, instantly transforming his face from handsome to beautiful. "Oh, I'm well, Teddy. But how about you? I heard you had a little splinching incident this morning."

Nott glowered. "How is everybody getting a hold of this information?"

"I'm not sure about everyone else," Blaise said, swivelling back to his desk to pick up the loupe, "but I put in a word at St Mungo's long ago." He turned his head to glance up at Nott and grinned unnaturally. "You know, to have them notify me if you ever turn up dead or whatnot."

_Or whatnot_, Nott mouthed silently, before shaking his head and taking a seat on the stool next to Blaise. "I'm flattered, Zabini."

Blaise shrugged indifferently before bringing the loupe back up to his eye. "So, what happened? As much as I loathe you, dear Teddy, I don't believe you**'d** be stupid enough to splinch yourself."

"Someone attacked me," Nott answered curtly, adjusting his tie with some mild annoyance. He left out the part that he had been cursed as well. Sometimes it was risky to reveal too much personal information to a man such as Blaise Zabini, friend or not. Giving this man leverage was not a wise idea.

Blaise looked up and examined Nott for a moment, as though sensing Nott had left some information out, and then quickly shrugged it off.

"Well, it wasn't me. If it were, the deed would be done." He offered Nott that unnatural Cheshire Cat grin of his again before resuming his work. "Do you reckon it was a warning?"

"I'm not sure yet," Nott answered slowly, observing Blaise's work with keen eyes, "but whoever did it, he meant to hurt me."

"Or _she_," Blaise added, absently pointing a finger in the air. "Let's not forget those homicidal women."

Nott smirked. "I don't think one of your exes is out to get me."

Blaise glanced up, his golden eyes narrowed. "How drôle, Teddy. How very drôle." He set down the gem and loupe and pushed them aside, swivelling around on his chair to face his friend. "But enough with this pleasant exchange. I know this isn't a social call." He raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "What have you got for me?"

Nott grinned. Blaise may have been many things, and on the top of that list wasn't a dear and loyal friend, but he didn't waste time or mince words. Nott had to appreciate him for that – or else what exactly would he appreciate him for besides his expertise in certain areas?

"A painting," Nott answered, pulling the envelope out of his jacket. "And a set of priceless diamonds."

Blaise raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Diamonds? Now that's more like it." He took the proffered photographs. "They couldn't be the Cordalis Diamonds, could they?"

"They could."

A hungry smile rose to Blaise's lips as he lifted the flap of the envelope. "Marvellous. I've always wanted to see that old bird's diamonds." He pulled out the pictures and laid them across the desk. "She's never liked Mother and thus, by extension, _me_."

"How is your mother?" Nott asked, cordially changing the subject as he straightened out his jacket.

"Full of piss and vinegar, as usual," Blaise replied distractedly, "and bound and determined to hex my ex into oblivion."

Nott knitted his brow in confusion. "Which one?"

"The third one."

"Third?" Nott searched the recesses of his mind. "You divorced Jessica?"

"Oh my, yes," Blaise said, the loupe already back up to his eye as he examined the photographs. "Ages ago."

"Too bad. I rather liked her," Nott said with a slight frown, pulling out his flask. "She was rather clever."

Blaise snorted derisively. "Not nearly clever enough." He glanced up at Nott. "She divorced _me__, _and, like Mrs Zabini One and Two, she thought she could get a settlement."

What most women didn't know about Blaise Zabini was that while his mother was ridiculously wealthy, he was not. That was not to say that his mother didn't support him. She gave him a house, property, anything he wanted – but it was all in _her_ name. That way if some gold-digger – or Merlin forbid, a Black Widow – came along and decided that she wanted Blaise's monetary 'goods', she'd get nothing. Not a single Knut. Everything was signed in Mrs Zabini's name. One could say that she had learnt from her own previous endeavours and wanted to ensure her son's safety. It worked.

"Dames," Nott said, twisting off the top of the flask and offering Blaise a swig in a rare show of camaraderie.

Blaise took a short drink before handing back the silver bottle. Nott took it graciously in cheers before tipping the rim to his lips and draining the flask of its contents. While Nott enjoyed his drink, Blaise went to arranging the photographs into piles and tapped a soft, slender finger on one of the stacks before looking up.

"I see you have still _and_ moving pictures," he observed, the delicate lines around his eyes crinkling as he examined the tall man sitting in front of him.

Nott shrugged. "I wanted a proper comparison."

"I see," Blaise hummed, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers together. "You want to know if they're fake." It was a statement, not a question, and Nott simply closed his eyes and inclined his head in admittance. "Well, I can't say for certain without the actual diamonds here in front of me, but they look authentic enough. I'll need some more time to examine these"—he waved his hand over the piles of photographs—"and to research."

Nott nodded again, this time in compliance. By research, of course, he had meant scouring the underground for information. Fencing. Dealings. Blaise's contacts in the seedy underbelly of the city were numerous and dangerous, and Nott didn't have to wonder why he did it. It was the thrill of it all – the danger and the intrigue. Blaise, like Nott, wasn't truly a Ministry man at heart. He was his own man with his own inner demons.

"Can you look at the photographs of the painting, too?" Nott asked, pointing at one of the stacks.

Blaise fanned out the photographs of the painting and grimaced. He smacked his lips together distastefully, as though something unpalatable was lingering on his palate.

"Abstract art." He groaned softly. "How simply garish."

"_Zabini, we need your eyes in here. Now_!"

Both Nott and Blaise quickly turned their heads towards the sound of what they assumed was a woman screaming for Blaise's help.

"Cack!" Blaise swore, pounding his fist hard on the desk. He seemed agitated, which did not look attractive on him. "Bloody banshee expects me to jump and do her bidding every time she shrieks at me."

"Sounds like wife Number Four to me," Nott commented with a smirk, depositing his flask back inside his jacket pocket with a pat.

"Oh, _ha ha_," Blaise retorted mirthlessly, bringing his fingers to his temples and sighing deeply. "I swear if Higgins promotes Shelly Winters over me next quarter, I will raze this building to the ground."

"Ground?"

"Sub-ground, sewers, whatever," Blaise mumbled, still massaging his temples. "Lower than it is right now."

"Remind me to never get on your bad side," Nott said, looking askance at the dark, handsome man.

"You're always on my bad side, Teddy," Blaise quipped facetiously, lowering his hands. "It just so happens that _your_ bad side is much worse than mine. It'd be too much of a headache to stay mad at you."

Nott smiled genuinely and then laughed. "Well, I had better get going before Winters starts screaming at you again."

Blaise narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists together at the mere mention of Winters. "Alright then, just leave these here with me, and I'll contact you as soon as I have some information."

Nott stood to his feet and buttoned up his jacket. "Standard fifteen percent alright?"

"Cheap bastard," Blaise muttered, collecting the photographs and slipping them back inside the envelope. "Make it twenty or you're on your own."

"Fine. Twenty, " Nott said with a sigh, pulling out his wand to sign the money order that Blaise already had ready and pressed into his hand. "I despise haggling with you."

"You never were the imaginative type, Teddy," Blaise said loftily, taking the cheque from Nott, and grinned. Even though he only got half up front, like Nott did, half of twenty percent was still a considerable amount.

"_Zabini_!"

Blaise pushed back from the desk with his calves straightening against the chair and almost stomped his foot in frustration.

"Keep your knickers on, Shelly!" He took in a deep breath and forced a smile. "Well, keep 'em on until I get there." Blaise then gave Nott a wink before making his way to the door. "Gotta go."

"Oh!" Nott called out, before Blaise could leave. "Could you come by the office when you have the information? Our network is down. Tracey should be there when you decide to drop in."

"Will do," Blaise said with a nod, before disappearing out the door and bellowing back at Winters.

Leaving the office and taking the long trek back to the Apparation point, Nott weaved his way through the maze of hallways and stairs. As he climbed higher and higher towards the surface, he began to feel his energy being sapped from him again. He had rarely experienced anything as singularly draining as these past few days, save for a few harrowing moments of his past.

The case was already proving hazardous to his health, and he longed for his next spike, feeling the euphoric effects of the elixir beginning to fade. He had to admit, however, as he made his way up a winding staircase, that he was impressed that he had made it through the ordeal so far without developing a rainbow of ulcers. Of course, he could have been cheating himself by speaking too soon.

Just then a flash of red light streaked past his left ear, followed by a kaleidoscope of colour. He collided into the door on the top of the steps and threw himself onto the floor before withdrawing his wand from its invisible holster. Spotting a figure draped in a thick, black hooded cloak, Nott shot a curse just past his assailant's ear. But his attacker had already fled, retreating back into another section of the Ministry.

Gripping his wand tightly in his hand, Nott jumped to his feet and took off down the stairs in hot pursuit. His attacker was small and fast, and Nott did his best to keep up with her even though his strength was waning from the earlier attack. He assumed his attacker was a woman because of her petite form and the long, brown hair that fanned out from underneath her hood as she ran. She quickly disappeared around the corner, and Nott lagged a little, letting his assailant think that she had lost her tail. Peeking around the corner, he saw the cloaked figure bent over, catching her breath.

With no one else in the corridor, Nott waited until his attacker turned back towards the exit and silently crept behind her. When he was perhaps a couple of feet behind the girl, he suddenly leaned sideways and grasped her from behind by both arms, just beneath her elbows. Nott forced the girl's arms forward so that her hands were lifted upward and he could search her pockets for a wand. His fingers touched something metallic and sticky, causing the girl to struggle and squirm against his hold. He withdrew his hands from her pockets and brought them back to her elbows, immobilising her. As she went to kick back, her foot met air. Nott had been in plenty of altercations like this before, and he had learnt to keep his legs spread. She was impotent in Nott's grip.

Wand in hand, he lifted the girl straight up from the floor and brought her down against the wall. At the moment of impact, Nott used this opportunity to slide his hands down to her wrists to get a better grip so that he could turn her around and reveal her identity. The girl was surprisingly strong and, with her teeth set hard together, she did not stop straining against Nott's big hands. However, she could not tear herself loose. She was trapped.

They were tense and motionless for a moment, and then the girl's arms became limp. Nott manoeuvred himself between the girl and the wall, holding both her wrists together with one of his hands while the other turned her around. Pushing her against the wall, he secured her body with his own weight before bringing his free hand to the hood of her cloak. He pulled it down with little effort, allowing her brown, braided hair to tumble out, and met her dull blue eyes with his green. The plain face, short stature, and frumpy body were unmistakeable. It was Mary Burke.

Before Nott could utter her name, a blinding sensation crippled his senses. He dropped his wand in pain, clutching his face in his hands. She had somehow hit him with a wandless curse, Conjunctivitus. Momentarily blinded, he released his hold on Mary, allowing her to escape. Falling to his knees, he began patting his hands along the floor until he found his wand and muttered the counter-curse. He was back up in an instant chasing after Mary, barely able to blink the murky haze out of his eyes before his foot caught on something and he tumbled roughly down the stairs.

This really wasn't Nott's day.

"Juno's cu—"

His expletive was cut short by a small hand reaching out to help him sit up. Nott blinked rapidly, trying to focus on the small figure in front of him. When his vision cleared, he saw that it was Matilda Burke's house-elf. What the hell was it doing there? Nott glanced around in haste, seeing Mary nowhere in sight.

"Be careful, Master Nott," the elf said quietly, helping Nott to his feet. "Young master shouldn't be looking into matters that are above his own ken."

"Ken?" Nott repeated, sore and bruised, and then barked out a laugh. "That's the most refined threat I've ever heard – and from a house-elf at that!" He shook his head, dizzy, and wiped the dust off his trousers. "I'd tip my hat to you if I had it on."

"Kip does not threaten nor kid," the elf said warningly. "Master Nott's life will be in danger if he continues."

Nott smoothed his hand over his face, feeling his skin catch on the stubble of his chin. "Listen, Kip"—he glanced down at the small elf—"It's Kip, right?" The house-elf nodded, its long ears flopping back and forth. "My life's always in danger. It's what makes it interesting." He took out his cigarette case, not caring one whit about the Ministry's non-smoking policy. "So, you bring on the bad, and we'll see if it's above my ken."

Nott met the elf's large saucer eyes unwaveringly with a determined fierceness. He then lit his cigarette and took in a deep, lung-filling drag. The house-elf, however, did not turn away. Instead, it shook its head almost ruefully.

"Master Nott does not understand. The diamonds – they are cursed in more ways than one." The elf glanced around nervously, wringing its hands. "Please heed Kip's warning."

And with that, the house-elf disappeared with a loud pop.

Nott stared at the ground for a moment before shaking his head and holstering his wand. "Now there's a mystery for you," he mumbled.

Taking another drag of his cigarette, Nott coughed and then turned around, limping his way back up to the surface.

**-x-**


	5. Fencing The Cordalis Diamonds

**The Flawless Caper**

**05 – Fencing The Cordalis Diamonds**

Nott came around the corner from the lift at a few minutes past six in the morning. Seeing yellow light glowing through the frosted glass of his office-door, he came to an abrupt halt. He set his lips together, looked up and down the corridor, and advanced to the door with swift quiet strides.

Curling his long fingers around the knob, he turned it with care that permitted neither rattle nor click. He turned and turned until the knob would turn no farther. It was locked. Holding the doorknob still, he reached his free hand down to the invisible holster on his hip and withdrew his wand, soundlessly unlocking the door. Balancing himself on the balls of his feet, he filled his lungs with air and clicked the door open, bursting inside.

There in front of him sat Tracey Davis, sleeping at her desk with her head resting on her forearms. She was wearing his extra, heavy-set jacket on her shoulders, wrapped cape-like around her.

Nott blew his breath out in a muffled laugh and shut the door behind him, holstering his wand. He crossed to the inner door where the office was empty and went over to where Tracey sat, putting a large hand on her shoulder.

She stirred, raised her head drowsily, and her eyelids fluttered. Suddenly, she sprang up in her seat and opened her eyes wide. In an instant, her wand was pointed at Nott's face. When she saw that it was him, she relaxed a little and then scowled at him, leaning back in her chair as she placed her wand on the desk. She brought her hands up to her face and sighed into them, rubbing at her tired eyes with her fingers.

"What time is it?" she asked, before covering her mouth to stifle a yawn.

"Six o'clock," he answered tersely. "What are you doing here so early?"

She shivered and drew Nott's jacket closer around her. "When you left the hospital, I decided to call the repair man to come fix our network, which still isn't working, by the way." She gave him a withered look as though it were somehow his fault. "They said they'd try to make it before closing and, if not, they'd be here by seven this morning."

"So, you decided to wait for them here until morning?"

"It wasn't just that," she said, standing up and letting his jacket slide down onto the chair behind her. "I thought you might have dropped in after your visit with Blai—" She broke off the moment her dark blue eyes focussed on Nott. "Oh, your head! What in Merlin's name happened to you?"

His right temple was dark and swollen and a large blue and purple bruise ran along the length of his right jaw.

"I was attacked on my way out of the Ministry last night," Nott answered lightly, barely touching his jaw with his fingers before flinching at the pain.

"You look terrible," Tracey said, grabbing her wand off the desk and muttering a few soothing spells to ease his discomfort. "Do you know who did it?"

"Mary Burke."

Tracey's eyes widened considerably. "Our client's niece?" She shook her head and reached up to gently touch Nott's chin.

He hissed at the pain and took a short step back, but he let her continue with her work.

"One and the same," he answered through gritted teeth. "She managed to get away using a non-verbal spell on me. I chased after her, but I must have still been blinded from the attack because I ended up falling down the stairs, which is how I got these." He waved his hand over his bruised face and grimaced.

"I guess I bet on the wrong niece," Tracey said glibly, before slipping her wand into her pocket. "Why didn't you go straight to St Mungo's or here?"

Nott shrugged and took a seat at one of the chairs in the waiting room. "After the warning from that house-elf, I decided to go back to the flat and do a little solitary thinking."

"Solitary thinking or solitary _drinking_?" Tracey asked wryly, taking the seat next to him.

Nott made a negligent gesture with the fingers on his right hand before bringing them to the inside of his left elbow, scratching distractedly.

Tracey twisted her lips into a frown as she watched him rub his arm, as though she could see the pinprick through the fabric of his jacket.

"So, a house-elf warned you – warned you against what or who? Mary?"

Nott brought his palm to his face and winced before drawing it away with a tired sigh of exhalation. "Warned me against looking into matters above my own ken."

Tracey snorted. "Sounds like one messed up household." She slowly rose to her feet and walked back over to her desk. "Did you want some tea?"

He lowered his hand and offered her a weary smile. "I'd love some, ta."

As Tracey went to making tea, Nott made his way down the hallway into his office. Sinking down into the plush leather of his chair, he leaned away from the desk and opened the top drawer. He rummaged his hands around until he found his notebook. Taking it out, he skimmed through the pages – notes of his interviews with Matilda Burke and Garblox the Goblin – until Tracey came into the room with the tea.

"So," she began, setting the tray down on one of the small tables near Nott's desk, "are you going to turn the older niece in?"

Nott glanced up and closed his notepad, slipping it into his inner jacket pocket. "There's nothing to turn her in for right now. I haven't any proof that she attacked me. Furthermore, I'm not even sure _why_ she attacked me."

"What I'd like to know is how she figured out where you were," Tracey said, pouring their tea with the allotted cream and sugar. "Did you have a Tracking Charm on you?"

Nott shook his head and took the proffered cup of tea. "No, all my clothes are warded against such charms, and I checked last night when I got back to the flat." He took a sip and lowered the cup onto the saucer in contemplation. "You are well-founded in your suspicions, though. How did she find me – and at that particular entrance into the Ministry? Hardly anyone enters through Piccadilly Circus."

Tracey frowned and took the seat across from his desk. "What will you do, then? You can't exactly follow her around if she's following you." Her eyes suddenly brightened. "Want me to trail her, incognito?"

Nott laughed, the rim of the cup at his lips. "Shall I get you a pair of dark glasses and a wig? Oh, and maybe a moustache? I'm thinking Fu Manchu for you."

Tracey's thin lips compressed into a frown and she narrowed her glacier blue eyes on him. "I really do detest your humour when you've returned from visiting with Blaise." She brought the teacup to her lips, drank, and then swallowed. "You always fancy yourself a comedian."

Nott laughed and took the cigarette case from out of his breast pocket. "Don't be such a killjoy, Trace."

Tracey rolled her eyes but did not respond. Instead, she continued sipping her tea in dejected silence.

"I have a meeting with the representative of Highland Security today," Nott announced, surreptitiously lighting the fag dangled between his teeth. "The company of Curse-Breakers that Matilda had hired."

"You got a hold of them?" Tracey queried with a touch of dismay, her icy demeanour entirely removed. Scheduling meetings was normally tasked to her.

Nott nodded, shaking out the match. "Yes, I owled them last night when I got home, and"—he took a deep drag and coughed—"and I received a response at an ungodly hour this morning."

Tracey smirked into her teacup. "Which was?"

"I'm meeting the man – I believe his name is Caulders, Haldron Caulders – for lunch at Café La Mode in Diagon Alley."

Tracey wrinkled her nose and set her cup and saucer on the edge of his desk. "I loathe setting myself up for further ridicule and embarrassment, but what about this business with Mary Burke?"

"Ah," Nott began, raising a finger triumphantly in the air, "I plan to observe her in her natural habitat at her aunt's – to properly suss out her motives, if you will." With the cigarette jutted between his teeth, he fiddled with his tie and fixed his collar. "I'm going to send Madam Burke a rush owl at a more reasonable hour this morning and ask if Mr Caulders and myself can join her at her manor to discuss my progress, as well as the security there."

"Brilliant," Tracey said mildly, casually sipping her tea.

"If that doesn't field any results," he said with a grin, removing the fag from his lips, "I'll just sic you on her."

Tracey rolled her eyes. "_Brilliant_."

"I'd also like to find out what this house-elf, Kip, knows and is unwilling to tell me."

"The only way you'll dig information about a family member out of a house-elf is by having it emancipated," Tracey said, straightening her back in her seat. "And even then . . ."

"Yes, I know," Nott agreed, scowling and waving his hand dismissively at her. "It will be terribly difficult to ascertain information and it might not even prove to be facilitatory to the case."

"But on the other hand?" she supplied.

"On the other hand," Nott continued, swivelling around on his chair to face the window, "it may prove to be most useful and fortuitous for us." He gazed outside, tenting his fingers together in contemplation. "Most fortuitous, indeed."

Tracey snorted. "Keep your hair on, Theo," she said dryly, causing him to turn. "You look like Dr Moriarty plotting Sherlock Holmes's demise."

Nott's confused expression quickly morphed into a look of sudden realisation. "You've been reading my books again, haven't you?"

Tracey grinned. "When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, _however improbable_, must be the truth, my dear Theodore."

Nott leaned back in his chair and laughed. "Cheeky bugger."

With that, Tracey offered Nott a sly wink before rising to her feet and collecting the tea tray and carrying it out of the office. It was already turning out to be an amusing morning for Nott, and he only hoped that it would become more productive and less painful than the night before.

**-x-**

Sunlight flooded in through high mullioned windows, throwing watery patches of colour from the stained glass. The dark panelling glowed like bronze in the golden rays that trickled in through the lush green foliage outside. At a table in the south-west section of the expansive room sat Matilda Burke and her guests: Theodore Nott, Haldron Caulders, Garblox the Goblin, and Lizzy and Mary Burke.

Nott had received word back from Matilda Burke straight-away that morning, with invites for both himself and Caulders to attend afternoon tea at the manor. Apparating to the given destination point, Nott arrived at Burke Manor where he was properly introduced to Mr Caulders, and the two sized each other up as competing businessmen do.

Caulders was a clean-shaven, prim-faced sort of man with flaxen hair and a lean jaw. He looked to be between the ages of thirty to forty, neither old-looking nor young. Dressed in a dull grey suit and matching robes, he was a short man with a slim build bordering on wiry. On his face were small rounded spectacles, which, in addition to his thin features, made him appear unimposing and plain, yet business-like. He had the look of man more predisposed to running books than curse-breaking. Yet perhaps his subtlety was part of his advantage in his line of work. Either way, he did not seem imposing or shady, just utterly dull and boring. It didn't help that his voice was low and monotonous – the kind of voice that put an audience to sleep.

Shortly after tea, Nott politely excused himself outside onto the gardens to have a smoke. He was not alone for long before the house-elf was beside him, offering him a snifter of Cognac brandy and making sure Nott wasn't dropping any ashes on the ground.

"Master Nott," Kip greeted sombrely, before conjuring a tall tripod table and a bronze ashtray to set on top.

"Kip," Nott replied curtly, taking a sip of the Cognac before noticing the attire the elf wore. "Nice gloves." With snifter in hand, he pointed to the pristine white gloves on Kip's small yet rather long hands.

"Thank you, Master Nott," the house-elf beamed. "Kip made them all by Kip's self." The elf glanced down and admired its own handiwork with what looked like a smile on its dour, long face. "Miss Elizabeth suggested Kip should wear them while serving tea."

"I'll bet she did," Nott said mildly, setting his snifter down on the table and turning. "Hullo, Miss Elizabeth."

Lizzy had entered the gardens soundlessly behind them and must have not expected to be noticed, for a lovely shade of rose tinted her cheeks. She looked down bashfully.

"Hello, Theodore," she said, smiling shyly as she met his dark green eyes. "I came to tell you that I'm afraid that I cannot stay for the rest of tea. I have an appointment at the salon."

"Wouldn't want you to miss that." Nott stubbed out his cigarette and glanced down at Kip, who was looking subservient while standing beside the table. "Although," he began, turning to look into Lizzy's soft brown eyes, "I have to admit that I can't see a single thing on you in need of improvement."

Her blush deepened, and she turned her head once more. "Why thank you. You're too kind." She turned back around and met his eyes demurely before they suddenly widened. "Oh my, your face!" she exclaimed reaching forward to tenderly touch the swollen nob just above his temple. "What happened?"

Nott instinctively reached out to close his fingers around Lizzy's slender wrist, lowering it from his face. She inhaled sharply at the physical contact, her cheeks burning brightly, and Nott dropped her hand, stepping back. He had asked Tracey to apply a Glamour Charm to hide the bruises, but apparently Lizzy could still see the bump on his head.

"This here's nothing," he lied, pointing to his temple. "I fell is all."

Lizzy regarded him with critical brown eyes for a moment, her rosebud mouth curving downward into a frown. She didn't seem to believe him, but at the same time she didn't press him. Instead, she chose to move on with the conversation.

"Aunt Tilda told us – Mary and I – that you and Mr Caulders here, and that horrid goblin, are holding a meeting about the curse on the diamonds." Her eyes and mouth softened. "Is that true?"

Nott nodded, feeling the pain in his back and shoulder return, to join the pain in his head and jaw. "Yes, it would help for me to understand the nature of the curse – in the event that I locate the diamonds."

"I see," she said distractedly, her eyes following Kip.

Picking up his glass, Nott drained it of its contents in one large gulp and set the snifter down on the table. He lifted his fingers in the air in a dismissing manner, and the house-elf, trained to observe such cues, vanished the table and its contents, along with itself.

Lizzy took a step closer to Nott, smiling. "Mary's been asking about you," she said conversationally, worrying her delicate hands down the bodice of her frock. "She seems to think you're an admirer of mine."

Nott slipped his hands into his pockets, smiling suavely. "Your sister's not half."

This time Lizzy's blush grew a bright red, blooming to the tips of her ears, and she let out a soft laugh. "Well, I'd love to find out what you know, Theodore. About the case, that is. What leads you have so far," she added quickly and bashfully. "I'm very curious about who could have stolen the diamonds." She glanced up at him, her almond-shaped eyes shining brightly in the light. "Would it be possible for me to visit you sometime soon?"

"Sure, darling," Nott said with a wink. "The network's fixed, so you can visit the office whenever you like."

"That's marvellous," she replied with a somewhat strained smile, making Nott wonder if she wanted to meet him in private. Vanishing away any worry lines on her face, Lizzy tucked a lock of curly auburn hair behind her ear and coyly bit at her lip. "Well, I must be going now."

"Of course." Nott nodded, still smiling. "Until next time."

Lizzy returned his smile and nodded, still looking back at Nott as she retreated into the manor. Nott watched her disappear down the hall and wished that he had time for another cigarette. Unfortunately, everyone was still gathered inside and waiting for him.

When he re-entered the museum room, Matilda rose to her feet and clapped her hands together once for attention. Everyone immediately gazed up at her, and she cleared her throat ceremoniously.

"Now that tea is over, I will leave you gentlemen, and Mr Garblox here, to discuss the details of the security." She smiled genially and then signalled for her niece with a snap of her fingers. "Mary, come along now."

"Thank Merlin," Mary sighed, sounding both relieved and utterly bored, as she rose to her feet.

Nott watched as the eldest niece followed her aunt out of the room. Mary didn't once look back at Nott, nor did she appear to notice him at all since he had been there. In fact, she didn't seem to take notice of anyone or anything. She had acted bored during the entire affair, like she was waiting for a bus. She couldn't wait to leave.

Once the women had left, the men immediately got down to business. Garblox once more went over the security of moving the diamonds from Gringotts to Burke Manor, and Caulders went into detail of how they set up security in the manor itself. Nothing seemed amiss.

"What about the curse?" Nott asked, looking from Caulders to Garblox.

"The Burke Curse is rather simple, yet ingenious," Caulders answered lightly. "Only someone of the Burke bloodline can handle the diamonds directly."

"Directly?" Nott asked, his brow furrowing into a deep V.

"Yes, to be able to actually hold them," Caulders clarified. "If the diamonds were swaddled in something, then you or I could touch them. However, with regards to the security that we had set up, no one could have taken them out of the house, concealed or not, unless it was a blood relative, and even then the manor itself has security wards placed within and without."

Nott nodded, taking down notes. "So, Mary and Elizabeth can handle the diamonds, even though they're not full-blooded Burkes, as it were."

"Yes, of course the curse has to compensate for progeny," Caulders said with a nervous sort of laugh. "It follows the family through many dilutions – again, only by blood and not by marriage." He put his hands on his lap and smiled. "Elizabeth, for example, could handle the diamonds, but her mother could not."

"And what happens when someone else outside of the bloodline handles the diamonds?" Nott asked seriously, his quill poised. "What exactly does the curse do?"

"It renders the thief into a comatose state," Garblox answered tersely.

"Irreversible?"

"No," Caulders answered for the goblin, laughing that nervous laugh of his, "but it has some rather unpleasant side-effects. Dark magic and all that."

Nott frowned thoughtfully. "So, you're basically saying that only a Burke family member or someone from the Burke bloodline can safely handle and transport the diamonds?"

"Correct."

"What about house-elves?"

Caulders paused for a moment. "Well, house-elves belonging to the family can definitely handle the diamonds," he answered with an emphatic nod. "I'm unsure if _any_ house-elf can do it. Elf magic is much different from our own. The curse may not apply to them, as they are magical creatures in their own right."

"Thank you," Nott said, finishing his writing before placing the notepad and quill in his pocket. "Do you mind walking me through your security?"

"Not at all. Please, follow me."

All three rose and went about investigating the scene once more. As Nott had suspected, no new evidence could be gleaned from his thorough inspection of Caulders's security. However, Caulders's and Garblox's information on the Cordalis Diamonds' curse had helped fill in some of the blanks, and matters no longer appeared to be as black and white as once imagined.

**-x-**

When Nott reached his office earlier that evening, Tracey Davis was at her desk opening mail and sorting through papers with an extremely irritated look on her face. Blaise Zabini was standing beside her, leaning on the desk and trying to engage her in conversation. The sound of the door closing alerted both to Nott's presence, and Tracey looked up with a sense of relief etched across her face as she clutched the letter opener tightly in her hand.

"Hullo, Teddy," Blaise greeted with a half-smirk, pushing himself up into a standing position.

Nott nodded a greeting and lit the cigarette he already had in his hand. He pulled up a chair and sat in front of Tracey's desk, too exhausted to make his way to his own office.

"What's the news?" Tracey asked, setting down the opened mail. "How'd it go with the aunt and niece – and the house-elf for that matter?"

Nott leaned back in the chair, the fag still dangling from his lips. "My suspicions have been compounded with even more suspicions."

"You sound like my ex-wives," Blaise added, sitting on the edge of Tracey's desk.

Tracey rolled her eyes. "How shocking."

"Needless to say I haven't told the client yet," Nott said, taking a slow drag. "If Mary is the one who stole the diamonds, I'd like to be able to prove it."

Blaise lifted a dark eyebrow. "Going to tail her?"

"Yes, I think I'll put Tracey on the job," Nott said with a grin, pointing a finger at Tracey. "You free tomorrow, darling?"

Tracey gave Nott a two finger salute before crossing her arms over her chest and scowling fiercely at her boss. Nott, in turn, winked at Tracey and then turned his attention to the tall, dark handsome man sitting on her desk.

"So, what news have you?"

"Glad you asked, Teddy," Blaise said with a grin, slapping his palm down on the desk. "After work last night, I sent out some feelers in the underground, spreading word about the diamonds." He winked at Tracey, who only rolled her eyes in answer. "This afternoon I was contacted by an associate of mine who informed me that some idiot Muggle is trying to fence the diamonds on the wizarding black market."

Nott's brow furrowed into a deep V. "The Cordalis Diamonds?"

Blaise lifted his palm upward. "He gave the same description; however, he called them the Tavernier Blue."

"Tavernier Blue?"

"I'll explain on the way there," Blaise said, standing up. "That is if you'd like to join me." He looked up at Nott, who immediately nodded and rose to his feet. "I've arranged a meeting for later this evening, at eleven. We can grab some dinner before then."

Nott nodded once more and raised his hand, indicating that Blaise should wait while he headed into his office to grab his extra jacket. When he returned, Blaise was leaning over Tracey again, whispering something in her ear. It obviously wasn't sweet nothings because Tracey did not look impressed. In fact, Nott saw her reaching for the letter opener again.

"What about the painting?" Nott asked.

Blaise turned his attention away from Tracey. "Unfortunately, I was unable to get much information on that, other than what you already know."

"Leave the photographs with me," Tracey ordered, causing both men to turn to stare at her. She shrugged nonchalantly. "I have a class this evening with a professor who is a bit of an expert on seventeenth century magical art."

"A bit of an expert on seventeenth century magical art?" Blaise repeated. "That's convenient."

Tracey glowered at Blaise before turning her attention to Nott. "Do you want me to ask him or not?"

"I'd appreciate it, Trace," Nott said lightly, pulling on the heavier jacket. "Ta, love."

"Mhm," Tracey rejoined with her eyes closed, dramatically flipping her hair over her shoulder.

Blaise scoffed, pulling out the manila envelope filled with the photographs and placing it on the desk. "Smugness is an entirely unattractive look on you, Davis."

Tracey opened her eyes and stood up. "Funny," she said, gathering the envelope in her hand. "It seems to be a natural look on you, like ignorance."

Blaise's carefully composed face fell for a moment, and Nott laughed.

"Point and match, mate."

"Shut it," Blaise hissed at Nott, staring Tracey down before heading out the door.

Still laughing, Nott waved to Tracey before exiting after Blaise. "See you tonight, angel."

**-x-**

After dinner, Nott and Blaise had made their way to the rendezvous: a seedy area in the south-east end of London known as Hackney. It wasn't the most ideal place to meet, but both men were armed and not too worried about meeting up with a Muggle. When they finally approached St Augustine's Tower, Blaise settled himself against the wall and looked up at the night sky while Nott lit a cigarette.

"Why does Davis despise me so?" Blaise asked out of the blue, causing Nott to hold onto the match a little longer than usual, which, in turn, led to the burning his fingertips.

"Can't say," he replied, quickly shaking out the match with a hiss.

"She's always been so impenetrable to my scintillating personality," Blaise said, sounding thoroughly annoyed and somewhat dejected. "Is she seeing anyone?"

"Can't say."

Blaise pushed himself off the wall. "I heard she was seeing that tosser, Adrian Pucey."

Nott took a drag from his cigarette and shrugged. "If you heard, then why ask me?"

"Because it warms my heart to listen to you deflect my every question with a slack-jawed 'can't say'." Blaise shook his head and slipped his hands into his pockets. "Look, she's your assistant and best mate, is she not? Plus, you're a bloody detective. You should have all the answers."

Mute, Nott just stared at Blaise before taking another drag.

"You know, Teddy," Blaise began, letting out a weary sigh, "you're about as exciting and informative as a dish rag."

Nott shrugged, unaffected. "So, you want to tell me about the Tavernier Blue?"

Blaise's golden eyes darkened, narrowing on Nott, but he was still willing to play along. "The Tavernier Blue was a large violet-coloured diamond discovered in India in the early 1600s, taken by a French merchant-traveller by the name of Jean-Baptiste Tavernier. He sold the crudely cut yet flawless diamond to the French monarchy where it was set in the French Crown Jewels, becoming known as the French Blue.

"It was said to have been stolen in 1792 during the turbulence of the French Revolution. Several Muggle historians believe that the diamond was taken to London where it was cut into two – one of those diamonds being the famous Hope Diamond, which is believed to be cursed."

"And the other diamond?"

Blaise shook his head and shrugged. "Unknown. It's still believed to be floating around the England somewhere, or Scotland."

Nott dropped his cigarette and crushed it under his heel. "Thank you for the history lesson, Blaise."

"You asked," Blaise said defensively, bringing his thumb to his right eye, which he rubbed tiredly. "Besides, you needed the lesson since you're so unimaginative, Teddy."

Nott rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. "Fine. Go on."

"Wizarding history details that the Tavernier Blue had a much older brother – a smaller but more refined and better cut blue diamond."

"The Cordalis Diamonds?" Nott asked, sounding more intrigued.

"The Cordalis _Blue_," Blaise corrected, offering Nott an arrogant smirk. "The 'merchant-traveller'"—he made air quotations—"Tavernier was also a wizard and a treasure hunter, as was his mother and father and his grandfathers before him. They were what you would consider the precursors to Curse-Breakers.

"Anyway, Jean-Baptiste's great-great grandfather on his mother's side, né Jean-Baptiste Cordalis, was under the hire of a notorious goblin merchant guild led by Ragnox the Despoiler. It is believed that Cordalis deceived Ragnox by keeping the larger diamond hidden in India and giving the goblin the smaller diamond, which was later cut into the Cordalis Diamonds in the early 1500s."

"Why didn't Cordalis go back and retrieve the diamond?"

Blaise raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "He died of syphilis on the voyage back home and had only managed to chronicle vague accounts of where the diamond was hidden. It wasn't for more than a hundred years later that his descendant was able to retrieve it."

"Interesting," Nott said, reaching into his jacket pocket for his flask.

"Yes, I thought that would kill some time before our mark arrived," Blaise said in blasé manner, before pointing to a solitary figure approaching. "This looks to be our rube over there."

The Muggle that slowly approached them was thin and very tall, almost as tall as Nott. His nose was long and narrow, jutted out between two keen blue-grey eyes set closely together. He was clad in a professional but rather slovenly fashion, for his jacket was dingy and the hems of his trousers were frayed. Though young-looking, his long back looked bowed, and he carried himself with a sort of peering benevolence. Upon closer inspection, however, Nott could not register any sort of recognition in this Muggle stranger's handsome eyes. Instead, he had a glazed expression on his face, as though lost or held in a deep trance.

"You Zabini?" he asked. His voice was mellifluous and light, as though he hadn't a care in the world – as though Hackney was the most respectable place in London for a business transaction.

"I am. I can assume you are Mitchum?"

He nodded and straightened his back, his limbs relaxing. "I hear you're looking for the Tavernier Blue."

"Do you have the jewel on you?"

"I have it secured. It's set on a necklace encrusted with white diamonds."

"Does it look like this?" Blaise reached into his pocket and pulled out a photograph of the Cordalis Diamonds, which he handed to Mitchum.

Mitchum took the picture and nodded again. Handing it back to Blaise, the Muggle glanced over at Nott and frowned. His eyes, still glazed over as though he had just spiked, shifted a little and regarded the tall detective with suspicion.

"Who's he?"

"Don't you worry about him," Blaise said with a bit of an edge to his voice. "You're dealing with me."

Mitchum's brow slowly knitted together, as though trying to fight an idea forming in his mind. He looked sceptically from Nott to Blaise and then back to Nott again.

"I'm his protection," Nott told Mitchum reassuringly in a deep voice, glancing down at the Muggle's jacket. "Just like that hand-gun you're holding in your pocket."

Mitchum looked down at his own jacket in surprise, his right eyebrow twitching softly.

"How much?" Blaise asked, getting down to business.

Mitchum turned his attention back to Blaise and answered without hesitation, "Ten million."

"Pounds or Galleons?"

Mitchum's puzzled look turned lost. "Galleons?"

"Never mind," Blaise said impatiently, turning to look at Nott.

"He's Imperius'd," Nott observed casually, confirming what he assumed his source already knew.

The Muggle, however, had no idea and could only stare at the two wizards, confused and in a daze.

"Why aren't you nervous, Mitchum?" Nott asked, taking a slow step forward, unafraid of the gun in the Muggle's pocket. "I mean, it's clear that you're on your guard, but you seem fearless right now. Why is that?"

Mitchum took a step back and shook his head. "I dunno," he said, looking genuinely confused. "You seem like nice blokes."

Blaise snorted. "Do you meet many nice chaps at St Augustine's Tower at the witching hour?"

"I dunno."

Blaise's golden eyes narrowed mockingly. "You don't know much, do you, Mitchum?"

Mitchum swallowed hard, licking his dry, cracked lips. His handsome eyes darted from side to side but kept returning to the corner where he came from: the wall of the church with a neat pile of stones in front of it.

"Why do you keep looking over there?" Nott asked, following the Muggle's actions with keen green eyes.

"O'er where?" Mitchum lied.

Nott kept his eyes fixed on the small pile of stones and spoke softly to Blaise, "You see it."

"I do," Blaise answered darkly, immediately walking over to the stone wall.

"Now, wait right there!" Mitchum ordered, but Blaise ignored him.

Bending down over the pile, Blaise began to pick through the stones. After rummaging around for a few seconds, he pulled out a piece of swaddled cloth and began to unwrap it.

Mitchum lunged forward, his hand in his pocket now. "Leave it out, or I'll—"

Nott's wand was out of its holster before Mitchum could even sense the movement behind him. Disarming the Muggle with a flick of his wrist, Nott sent Mitchum's gun sailing across the way towards the wall where Blaise stood. Before Mitchum could move or yell out, Nott already had him in a Body-Binding Curse while Blaise unravelled the cloth, revealing the stolen diamonds within.

"Who did you get these from?" Nott asked, pressing his wand to the Muggle's throat.

"I—"

Nott dug the wand in deeper and barked at Blaise, "Don't touch the diamonds directly. They're cursed."

Blaise nodded, wrapping the diamonds back up in their swaddling and carefully slipping them into his pocket.

"Now, I'll ask again," Nott said, his voice dangerously low, with his lips against Mitchum's ear. "_Who_ did you get these from?"

Just then a flash of red light soared past Nott's left ear, and he felt the distinct feeling of d_éjà vu washing over him as he dove to the ground, taking Mitchum down with him. Blaise already had his wand drawn and was firing spells in the air, hoping to inadvertently hit his target_. During the commotion, Nott picked himself and Mitchum up and ran for cover behind the wall of the church. Blaise covered them as they made their way across, ducking and dodging the spells that seemed to come from every-which direction.

Once at the wall, Nott lost his grip on Mitchum and turned just in time to feel the Muggle's pistol dig into hi_s back. Cursing to himself, Nott raised his arms and intertwined his fingers, placing them behind his head. Blaise was too busy fending off the curses to notice what was going on behind him, so Nott had to think fast. _

_As Mitchum leaned forward to reach for Nott's wand, Nott dropped his elbow and spun to the right. Mitchum jerked back, but not far enough: Nott's right heel on Mitchum's toes anchored the Muggle in the elbow's path. Nott struck him just beneath the cheekbone, causing Mitchum to yell out and stagger backwards. As the Muggle went to fall back, Nott straightened his elbow and struck his hand down at the pistol. Mitchum let go the instant Nott's fingers touched it and fell unconscious to the ground._

_Pocketing the pistol, Nott stepped over the body and joined Blaise at the corner of the wall. Blaise __was swearing loudly, flinging himself back against the wall, as a spell shot past his head._

_"Bloody slag!" he cursed._

_"It's a woman?" Nott asked, withdrawing his wand as he peeked around the corner. A curse whizzed past his ear, almost blinding him, and he threw his back against the wall beside Blaise. He hadn't seen much, but he had seen enough to know that their attacker was a woman with the same body type as Mary Burke._

_"She must be the one who Imperius'd the Muggle," Blaise said, wiping the sweat from his brow with his free hand. "We have to get out of here, now! This is a crowded Muggle area, and she's gone completely nutters!" _

_Nott nodded in agreement and glanced down at Mitchum. The Muggle's eyes were closed and he looked almost peaceful lying there unconscious on the ground._

_"You have the diamonds?" Nott asked._

_Blaise patted his breast pocket. "All we need to do now is get rid of the evidence." He pointed his wand at Mitchum. _"_Obliv_—"

"No!" Nott cried, reaching out to lower Blaise's wand.

"What?"

"You can't Obliviate him in the state he's in," Nott chastised, lowering his and Blaise's hands. "It could wipe his mind completely, and permanently."

Nott knelt down beside the unconscious Muggle and began to go through his pockets until he found what he was looking for. Flipping open the mobile phone, Nott dialled 112 and reported the unconscious man to the operator, along with his whereabouts before hanging up and wiping his prints from the phone and dropping it on Mitchum's lap.

"Let's just go before she comes back or the police get here," he said to Blaise, rising to his feet and wiping the dirt and rubble off his trousers.

"Alright," Blaise said, holding onto his wand. "I've got a place nearby. Hold on."

Blaise held out his free arm and Nott took it, Side-Along Apparating to small terrace of a large building. Spluttering, Nott spit a branch out of his mouth and stepped out from behind a small planted tree. The entire veranda looked like a small garden, and Nott had to watch his footing as he stepped around and followed Blaise inside the second story flat through the large glass doors.

"I'm afraid this is the only safe Apparating point with Side-Along Apparation," Blaise said to Nott, as a way of apologising for depositing him in a tree. "Wards and all that security rot."

Blaise led Nott into the beautifully furnished flat and pointed to a seat in front of the fireplace while he grabbed a bottle of Cognac from his liquor cabinet. Pouring the honey-coloured liquor into a wide snifter, Blaise handed the glass to Nott, who had settled into plush leather chesterfield with a weary sigh.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Blaise carefully pulled out the swaddled cloth and set it on the table in front of Nott. Nott leaned forward and carefully folded the cloth away so that he could get a better look at the diamonds. They looked exactly like the photographs Matilda had given him. Of course, Nott was no expert, not like Blaise.

"She Imperius'd a Muggle to fence the diamonds for her and tried to trade it for Muggle money since it wouldn't be traced back to her," Nott said aloud, but more to himself, as he gazed pensively at the diamonds.

"Nothing skew-wiff about your deductive powers, Teddy," Blaise stated dryly, pouring himself a snifter of brandy.

Nott licked his lips and slowly rolled his eyes up at Blaise. "Remind me why I enlist your services, again."

Blaise smiled and settled into a plush high-back Queen Anne chair with his drink in hand. "I've always suspected that you enjoy my wit and stunning good looks." He raised his glass in mock cheer. "They bring a small amount of pleasure and satisfaction to your otherwise dull and dreary existence."

Nott's right eyebrow lifted ever so subtly. "That's what you suspect?"

"Yes." Blaise nodded with the unnatural grin fastened on his face. "I brighten your disposition."

Nott laughed despite himself. "Sure you do." He shook his head and took a sip of his drink. "Tracey was right: you are a horrible influence on me."

Blaise's grin widened and he waggled both eyebrows. "Tracey's just jealous. She wishes she were as spiffing as me."

"S-Spiffing?" Nott managed to sputter out as he choked on his brandy. Setting down the glass, he began to laugh, which quickly turned into a coughing fit.

Blaise leaned over and thumped Nott's back soundly, which caused Nott to cough even harder. As the coughing and laughter died down, Nott finished his drink without incident and rose to his feet.

"Well, I had better be off to Burke Manor to see if I can get some answers." He pulled out his pocket watch and frowned. "Ah, be damned the hour," he muttered darkly, pocketing the watch.

Blaise, still seated, withdrew his wand and lifted the anti-Apparation wards.

"Going to confront horse face, then?" he asked, swirling his drink in the snifter. "She's more skilled with the wand than I would have given her credit for. But I suppose ugly girls must try harder, nay?"

Nott shook his head. "You are so crude." When Blaise only smiled in return, Nott pointed at the swaddling of cloth on Blaise's centre table. "When can I get an answer from you about the diamonds?"

"I suspect I'll be spending the whole night examining this beauty, so I will have an answer for you by tomorrow sometime."

"Excellent," Nott said, taking out his wand. "When and where shall I meet you?"

"Here," Blaise answered glibly, raising his glass to indicate their surroundings. "Six Upper Belgrave Street. Flat Two. Belgravia. Come visit me in the morning for some information."

Nott nodded and took in a short breath through his nose. "Thanks, Blaise. G'night."

"G'night, Teddy."

Without further words exchanged, Nott Disapparated from Blaise's flat back to St Augustine's Tower. There was no sign of Mitchum or Mary or the police, so Nott decided to set off to Burke Manor forthwith. On his way, many questions swam through Nott's mind: Why ask for Muggle money, and why sell to a wizard and not another Muggle? And how was Mary Burke able to smuggle the jewels out of the manor with no detection or trace of magical evidence left behind?

Nott would have the answers he sought, and he would have them soon.

**-x-**

* * *

**Author's notes:** The quote, "When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, _however improbable_, must be the truth . . ." is from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's "Sherlock Holmes 'The Crooked Man'" in _The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes__/i_(1893); Doubleday Publishing, p. 416.


End file.
